Casey vs the Love Interest
by Lolita Wright
Summary: Because there's just never enough Casey.  Casey/OC **Complete**
1. Chapter 1  Sucker Punch

**Author's Note:** This has been sitting in my "musings" folder for awhile now and wondered if anybody else might enjoy it. Will be mostly from Casey POV and I figure in his head characters are referred to mostly by last names. Hope it doesn't get too cumbersome.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Chuck, Sarah, Casey, or any of the other wonderful characters or anything having to do with show. But my hats off to those who do and many thanks for letting me borrow them for just a while.

**Chapter One - Sucker Punch**

_Sucker punch: A punch that takes your enemy by surprise, possibly knocking them out. Comes from them being a sucker for not having their guard up._

Knowing that she was nearing the end of the class, Casey eased through the door and took a relaxed stance near the front desk. She glanced at him and then quickly returned her eyes to her students, but Casey knew she had evaluated him on a level most people never did.

He watched as she worked with a blond haired kid wearing a blue belt, walking him through a series of movements, called a form or kata depending on the discipline she was teaching. The kid followed her closely, putting everything he had into each movement. Casey respected that. He ran his eyes around the room and saw that every kid in the place had crisp, clean techniques backed with as much power as could be expected from the age.

He moved his eyes back to the woman. He knew from her file she was 35 years old. 5-foot 9 and 150 pounds. Martial arts uniforms are not designed to show off the female form, but looking at her Casey figured she had lost a few pounds since active duty. Her dark auburn hair was tied back in a braid that draped to her mid-back. And though he couldn't see them from where he stood, he knew her eyes were hazel.

The woman ordered the kids to line up with such authority that Casey's instinct was to snap to attention as well. The kids ran to take their places, turned away from the woman to straighten their uniforms and then turned back. A teenager wearing a black belt called them to attention and all the kids straightened. The black belt had the class bow to the flags and bow to the instructor. Then a kid wearing a brown belt ordered the class to bow to the black belt and class was over.

Casey watched as the kids headed off to the locker rooms. They were the most respectful and well behaved group of kids he had ever observed. Of course he should have expected as much when the school was being run by a retired Marine.

The woman approached him with a wary smile. "Can I help you?"

When the General gave the team the assignment, it hadn't taken them long to decide to play it straight. She wouldn't fall for Bartowski's bumbling fool routine and it would have taken too long. She was a Recon Force Marine who had served the country proudly for 13 years. She deserved the direct approach.

"I hope you can," Casey said in a quiet voice, doing his best to appear unthreatening. She stopped just outside the reach of his side kick and he felt the corner of his mouth reach toward the ceiling. He pulled his credentials from his back pocket and flipped it open, making sure she was the only one who could see it.

The smile fell off her face before her eyes went to his ID card. She checked the ID, and shifted her eyes back to his face, studying it for a long time. Finally she rolled her eyes and exhaled forcefully.

"Listen, I told you people several years ago that I'm no longer available for…" she glanced over her shoulder, checking to see if anybody had escaped the locker rooms, "… consulting work."

He took a step closer and lowered his voice. "But this is something that you are uniquely qualified for."

"Uniquely qualified," she said with a laugh. "Girls like me are a dime a dozen if you know where to look, and you…" she ran her eyes over him obviously, "I'm sure you know where to look, Marine."

He cocked his head to one side. She gave him a dismissive wave of her hand and moved past him toward the front door. As she passed him, he caught her scent – sweat, vanilla, and soap – and his heart broke formation – one irregular beat. He shook his head and turned to watch her look out the glass door.

"You people aren't crowding my parking lot with black SUVs, are you?" she asked, turning her eyes back to him. "This is my livelihood here… I need for people to be able to get to class."

He shook his head. "Did you hear what I said? You are uniquely qualified to help us…"

She took an angry step toward him. "Did you hear what I said? I'm out. Permanently. There is nothing you can say to me that will make me help you."

Casey lowered his voice even more. "Peter Smythe."

Her peaches and cream complexion went sheet white. "What did you say?"

"Peter. Smythe."

She stared at him for a moment and then said, "Oh, well why didn't you say so? In that case the answer is HELL no." She walked past him again, this time headed for the front desk. "You need to go," she said, pointing toward the door.

He put a hand on her arm and was immediately sorry for it. She moved quickly, wrapping her arm around his, stepping into him, and using her hip to throw him off balance and down to the floor. His instinct was to roll away from her and jump to his feet, but that would be a threatening move and he didn't want to get into a brawl with her. He could take her of course, but it wouldn't help their cause.

He held his arms up in surrender and stayed on his back as footsteps approached. A group of kids gathered around her. The black belt teenager with Zac Efron hair stepped forward.

"You need help, Master Caldwell?"

She let out a musical laugh. "Oh, goodness, no," she said. "Mr. Casey was just inquiring as to how well our self defense techniques work and I was just demonstrating."

The teenager gave Casey an angry glare. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Caldwell said, extending her hand to Casey. He took it and allowed her to pull him up.

"Very impressive," Casey said in effort to play along. "I'm definitely interested in signing up for classes. Can I start class tonight?"

The way the muscles in her jaw tightened pleased him for some reason. She hesitated for a moment before forcing a smile and responding. "Of course. Why don't you have a seat in my office? There are some forms you need to sign." She led him to her office and pushed open the door. "I'm just going to see my students off and I'll be right with you."

Casey nodded and took a seat in front of the desk. As he listened to her chatting with her students, he looked around the office searching for pieces to her private life – anything he could use. He noticed the high end computer and a top of the line security system including several cameras in the parking lot and back alley. He saw a stack of bills and some fliers for upcoming tournaments. There was a variety of demonstration weapons and boards for breaking at the back of the room. But the only personal items he found were various rank certifications hanging on the walls. Like all good covert operatives, she left nothing of herself exposed.

He heard the students leaving, the door opening and closing. And then a strange thing happened. The lights went off and he heard the sound of the door closing and locking.

xxxxxxxxxx

Three sets of eyes were on him the minute he crossed Castle's threshold. Casey was unhappy with the way the meet had gone and the fact that Grimes was there to hear the details made him even more unhappy.

"How did it go?" Walker asked.

"Use that famous Casey boyish charm?" Chuck asked with a dopey smile. "Convince her to work with us?"

Casey made his way down the steps before answering. "It didn't go to plan."

"What does that mean?" Walker asked.

"I told her who I was, dropped Smythe's name, and asked for her help…" he said.

Grimes jumped in like an annoying cartoon character, "Yeah, yeah, and then?"

Casey exhaled sharply. "Then she locked me in her dojang and left."

There was a short moment of silence before Chuck gave a hardy laugh. "She locked you in? I like her style!"

Casey growled in response.

"She ran?" Grimes asked.

Casey shook his head. "I don't think she's running."

"What do you think she's doing then?" Walker asked.

"She's setting the tone for our next meeting."


	2. Chapter 2 Kimura Hold

**Chapter Two – Kimura Hold**

_Kimura: An arm-lock position in which the arm is bent behind the fighter leading to an arm break or shoulder dislocation if the fighter doesn't tap out. Named after the Japanese fighter, Masahiko Kimura._

Casey walked into her dojang at the same time as the day before. When he saw Zac Efron teaching the class, he worried for a moment that he was wrong about her being a flight risk. Then he saw a movement in the doorway of her office.

He turned his head to find her leaning against the doorframe wearing jeans and a white sweater, her hair pulled back in a pony tail, arms crossed over her chest. "You didn't fill out the paperwork, Mr. Casey. I thought I gave you plenty of time."

He took a step toward her. "Couldn't find a pen, Ms. Caldwell."

She held his stare for several moments and then gave him half a smile. She angled her body to the side and motioned for him to enter her office. He walked around the front desk and paused in the doorway, squaring his body up to hers. Together they filled most of the available space – there was only an inch of air between their bodies. The smell of her filled his nose – no sweat this time - and his heart skipped a beat again.

He looked down into her hazel eyes and put on his favorite scowl. "That wasn't funny."

She examined his eyes and then gave him the half smile again. "You're lucky I didn't set the alarm." He snarled and continued to stare at her. "You're not trying to intimidate me, are you?"

He stepped into the office and she followed and closed the door. She walked around her desk and motioned to the chair in front of it. "Take a seat Mr. Casey."

He remembered sitting in the dark and feeling like a fool. "I'd rather stand."

She shrugged and sat down. "Just as well. You won't be here long…" She set her eyes on his. "My answer is still hell no."

He gritted his teeth and took a step toward the desk. "You haven't even heard what I have to say."

She sighed and leaned back in the chair. "It's obvious. Peter has done something to piss off the government and unfortunately the government knows that Peter and I have a past…"

"I'll say," he snarked. Casey had spent a good deal of time reading about the two of them and reviewing surveillance photos.

She frowned at him. "But that was four years ago. I haven't seen him since I caught him cheating on me."

The photo from the file came back to him. The woman in question was a low level Pentagon employee with bleach blonde hair, D cups, and an endless supply of provocative clothing. She was a cliché and couldn't hold a candle to Caldwell in Casey's opinion.

Casey shook his head. "Guy was an idiot."

Caldwell stopped with her mouth slightly open to stare at him for a moment. She gave a jerky nod. "Yes, he was," she said. "But the point is I don't know where he is, I haven't talked to him in four years, and there is nothing I can do to help you."

He stepped closer to the desk. "You haven't seen him in four years?" he asked.

"That's what I said."

"Funny. Our intel says he comes noising around here every couple of months. We just assumed it had something to do with you."

Her creamy complexion went pale and Casey examined her face trying to determine if she was reacting to getting caught in a lie or if she was… surprised? Maybe even scared?

After a moment she said, "There are a lot of reasons Peter might come to LA… it could be anything…" her voice was faraway, "and he's never contacted me… why would he?"

Casey watched her carefully. She was either a good actress or honestly shaken.

"You really expect me to believe that these visits have nothing to do with you? That in the last 4 years he hasn't tried to contact you?"

She moved her eyes quickly as if thinking about something - working something out. "No… it's not possible… he couldn't…"

Her eyes were suddenly pulled to the computer monitor. "Oh shit!"

She came to her feet, her body suddenly tense and defensive. Casey wished he brought a gun.

"What?" he asked looking around at the monitor. It showed the video feed from the surveillance cameras. He heard the door of the dojang open. He caught her eyes… they were wide and nervous. Casey smiled. "Is he here?"

"What?" she exclaimed. "No! I told you I haven't seen him and it's the truth." She started to move toward the door. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

"Like I'm going to fall for that again," Casey said, following her too closely.

She rounded on him and stabbed a finger into his chest. "You stay here!" she said in her most commanding voice. She looked up into his eyes and her tone softened. "When I come back, we can talk about how you think I can help."

He tilted his head and growled deep in his throat.

"Please," she said softly. He realized she was pleading with him. "Just give me five minutes." She splayed her fingers on his chest and pushed him backwards a few steps.

She didn't wait for his reply. She turned and disappeared out the door, closing it behind her. He hesitated for a moment. There was a part of him – a part he thought he had buried long ago – that said she was fragile and should be protected; that she should be trusted and he should respect her request.

Then he remembered Corrina and every other woman who had betrayed him. He remembered watching Walker work her magic. He remembered every Marine and NSA operative who had turned on him.

He threw a couple more shovels of dirt on that stupid, naïve part of himself and headed for the door.

There was a screech of sound that he couldn't identify coming from the other side of the door. He yanked it open.

He couldn't have been more surprised if he had found Caldwell standing there naked. He was momentarily distracted with the imagery…

Caldwell was on her knees holding a little girl in her arms. The girl had her arms fastened tightly around Caldwell's neck and was still making the screeching noise. Her shoulder length strawberry blond hair was pulled back with a colorful headband, long curls bouncing over her shoulders. Her clothes were an explosion of orange and purple and green.

There was a another woman there also. Younger than Caldwell with long dark hair, average height, athletic build, and white rhinestone sunglasses pushed up on the top of her head. She eyed Casey for a moment then turned her eyes back to Caldwell.

"I'm sorry, Jo, she was just so unhappy…"

The little girl interrupted as little kids always do, her voice too loud and much too excited. "Don't be mad at aunt Katie, mommy… I just missed you. I wanted to see you… I… I'm…"

The little girl turned her head toward Casey and her blue eyes widened. "Who's that Mommy? He's scary."

Caldwell looked around the girl to scowl at him. "He's nobody, sweetie. Pay no attention to him."

Realizing this was just the kind of personal information he could use against her, Casey did his best to put on a friendly smile. "Hi there! I'm Mr. Casey," he said in his most friendly voice as he walked toward them. "I'm a friend of your mommy's." Casey knelt down beside them. "And who are you?"

She looked at him for a few moments and finally said, "I'm not 'posed to talk to strangers."

Caldwell smiled and stood up keeping the girl close to her chest. "Good girl," she said, rubbing the girl's back.

"Adorable," Casey said through clenched teeth. He came to his feet and focused on Caldwell's eyes.

Caldwell gave him a silent snarl then pulled the little girl away enough to look in her eyes. "Listen, honey, I have to finish up some business with Mr. Casey. You wait for me out here, and when I'm done we'll go do something fun."

The little girl squealed and clapped her plump hands. "Promise mommy? You promise?"

Caldwell smiled a smile that reached to her eyes. "Yes, I promise…. Now, back to aunt Kate…"

"Drake!" the girl squealed pointing toward the class. "I want to see Drake!"

Zac Efron jogged over and the little girl practically jumped into his arms. "Hey, munchin!" the teenager greeted. "You want to help me with class?"

Casey watched Caldwell as she watched Zac Efron carry the girl away.

"I'm really sorry, Jo…" the other woman said.

Caldwell turned to face her. "It's okay, Kate. In fact," Caldwell shot a sideways glance at him, "It's probably better this way. I'll take her home with me."

"Are you sure?" Kate asked looking uncertainly from Caldwell to Casey.

"Absolutely. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay… sure…" Kate retreated toward the front door. "Have a good evening."

Kate left and Caldwell turned angry hazel eyes on him. He smirked.

"Cute kid," he said. "How old is she? About four?"

"You're a bastard," she growled, her voice low so that no one else could hear. "I hate you." She walked back to the office and waited for him. He kept the smirk in place as he passed her and took a chair. He was suddenly feeling more confident about the meeting.

She closed the door and took her seat on the other side of the desk. She gave him a cold stare for several moments. "What is it that you want from me, Mr. Casey?"

"Let's start with the truth. When was the last time you saw Peter Smythe?"

"Four years ago," she said flatly.

"Uh huh," Casey said skeptically. "And did you even consider telling him that he's a father?"

She opened her mouth and then quickly closed it. She stared at him and then exhaled forcefully. "I considered it," she said.

"But you didn't tell him."

"No. I didn't want him hanging around. "

"But he is anyway," Casey countered.

"I didn't know that."

"And now that you do know, what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing," she replied. "He hasn't bothered me up to this point. I see no reason to do _anything_."

He stared at her a few moments, trying to decide the best course. He was aware that the child complicated matters. He was aware that even the most level-headed woman was affected by motherhood. But that's where his knowledge ended. This was uncharted territory for him.

He exhaled. "Smythe has gone rogue."

She shrugged, "That term means nothing. That's what we used to call retirement."

He leaned towards the desk and hardened his voice, "He stole something that would be very… " Casey searched for a word that wouldn't give too much away. "… bad if it fell into the wrong hands."

She frowned. "And you think he's going to sell it to the highest bidder?"

"You know intelligence analysts, they never agree… some think he'll sell it and some think he's got a personal agenda." He stared into her eyes waiting for… something. "What do _you_ think he'll do with it?"

She shook her head minutely. "I can't imagine him doing anything serious enough to send the government after him. Peter may not always have the… uh… proper motivation, but he isn't a bad man."

"Maybe he wasn't four years ago," Casey said using his most persuasive tone, "But he is now."

She returned her eyes to his face. "So you want me to make contact with him?"

He nodded. "Figured despite the way your relationship ended you two probably set up some covert way to get in touch… just in case."

She hesitated. "Suppose he makes contact," she said. "You going to swoop in and arrest him?"

He shrugged. "Most important thing is we get the package back."

"You've been doing this a long time, haven't you?" she said shaking her head. "You're very good at speaking without really saying anything."

He shrugged.

"What happens if I refuse to help you?" she asked.

"I'd rather not say," he replied.

The pink on her cheeks shifted to red. "You going to arrest me? Take my daughter away from me?" she said, her voice shaking with emotion.

He stared at her until she barked, "Answer me, Casey!"

He waited a moment then said, "We didn't know you had a daughter. "

"But that doesn't change anything as far as the government's concerned, does it?" she growled. "The good of the many…"

"Outweighs the good of the few," he finished. "Yes, it does."

He felt a twitching sensation in his chest. In his brain he visualized ripping the thing out of his chest, throwing it in a box and slapping a padlock on it. He was a soldier, damn it. There was no room for emotions in this scenario.

He returned his attention to Caldwell. She was staring at him expectantly. "I have not been briefed on exactly what would happen if you said no. Would I get to drag you away in handcuffs? Probably. Would it be called an arrest? Doubtful. You fall under The Patriot Act."

"Indefinitely," she said through gritted teeth. He nodded. "Undisclosed location," she bit off.

He nodded again. "You know how it works."

She glared at him with more hate than he'd seen in a long while. "You're a bastard."

He shrugged. "Been called worse."

She was quiet for a few moments then tilted her head as if she were thinking something through. "You will protect my daughter," she said forcefully.

"We will," Casey said with a nod.

"I will hold you personally responsible for her, Mr. Casey. If anything happens to her…"

Casey leaned forward in the chair. "We'll keep her safe."

She searched his eyes. "You don't know Peter."

"And you don't know me," Casey countered. "However _good_ you think Smythe is, I'm better."

She stared at him for a few moments and then slowly arched and eyebrow. Casey felt his cheeks warm at the suddenly realized innuendo in his words, but he stayed silent.

She exhaled slowly. "I guess we're going to find out."


	3. Chapter 3 Lay & Pray

**Author's note: ** Thanks SO much for the reviews. It does motivate me to finish this thing out when I know people are reading. I'm open to all forms of reviews, including constructive criticisms.

In case you like tough guys like I do, thought I'd put a plug in for my other (much older) fanfic set in the Leverage universe, The Retrieval Job. Mainly Eliot and big surprise here, an OC with a troublesome ex, but the whole gang is involved. 11 chapters complete. I think it's still available here on this site.

Also, remember this is from Casey's POV, so while I personally wouldn't label Morgan as a bearded weirdo or Chuck's laugh as a giggle, I think Casey just might.

**Chapter Three – Lay & Pray**

_Lay & Pray: Similar to a ground & pound style, but instead of striking on the floor, the fighter utilizes position and smothering techniques to ride out a decision._

"You have no other way to contact him?" General Beckman asked.

Caldwell exhaled tiredly. "No matter how many times you ask me that question, the answer is going to be the same: no."

The method of contact Smythe and Caldwell had set up was to create a Facebook account using one of the legends they had used when they worked together.

"Then you did something to wave him off," the General countered.

Caldwell gritted her teeth. "If that were the case, why would he come here at all?"

Smythe showed up on surveillance video getting off a bus in Union Station 36 hours after Caldwell created the account. But that was almost two weeks ago.

"Why hasn't he made contact then?" General Beckman pushed.

"Because he's good at what he does," Caldwell said. "He probably spotted the surveillance you have on me or Evangeline."

They had set up 24 hour surveillance on Caldwell and her daughter so they could grab Smythe when he finally showed.

"I doubt that," the General replied. "We're spending thousands of dollars a day using our best operatives and our latest surveillance technologies to protect you and your daughter."

Oh yeah. And for their protection.

"I know! I can _see_ that! And I'm guessing Peter can too."

Casey looked around the table. The whole team was there. And Grimes. Just looking at the bearded weirdo brought a snarl to Casey's lips.

"If that's the case," Chuck spoke for the first time, "Maybe we can use that against him."

All heads turned toward Chuck. "How?" Caldwell asked.

Chuck shot Casey a pointed look and then turned his eyes to Caldwell. "You believe that Smythe is only interested in Evangeline, but the data says otherwise." Chuck put his attention on his laptop, clicked a few keys and then motioned toward the bank of monitors behind Casey's back. Casey, Caldwell, and Walker turned their chairs to find a line graph on the center monitor.

"I've charted Smythe's sightings over the past four years, and as you can see, there are three significant spikes. The months surrounding Evangeline's birth, the summer of 2008, and the first six months of 2009."

"Oh," Caldwell said softly.

"Oh?" Casey asked, turning towards her.

She turned her head slowly to meet his gaze. "Summer of 2008 was Tanner. 2009 was Stephen."

Casey recognized the names from her debriefing. The only two men she dated seriously since Smythe.

Caldwell scrunched up her face and turned her chair to face Chuck. "But what does that have to do with using the surveillance against Peter?"

Chuck tilted his head to the side. "Okay, so we can draw the conclusion from the data that Smythe is bothered whenever you date. And let's assume that he got your message and came here to see you but got spooked when he picked up on the surveillance. _What if_ we made the surveillance a little more obvious and what if you started showing… uhm…" Chuck glanced at Casey again. "… romantic interest in one of them?"

Caldwell's jaw dropped open. "Are you serious?"

Casey snickered. "That might work if we were all still in high school, Bartowski."

"No, no," Grimes said, tapping the table. "I think Chuck's plan can work. In fact, I'm crazy about it! And furthermore…" he grinned in Caldwell's direction, "I'd like to volunteer for this mission…"

"Shut up, Grimes" Casey growled.

"I don't know, Chuck," Walker hesitated. "That's a pretty big leap. If he never showed his face when she dated before, why now?"

Chuck was quiet, appeared to be thinking, and then sighed. "It sounded good in my head," he said with a shrug.

The room was silent for a few moments. It was the General that broke the silence. "We're wasting time," she said. "Smythe has been in town for nearly two weeks and hasn't made contact yet. Perhaps Chuck's plan will move him toward action."

"You've got to be kidding," Caldwell said slouching back into her chair.

Casey felt uncomfortable with the whole idea and was unwilling to explore the reasons why. "But General, we don't know for a fact that Smythe is aware of the surveillance."

"I'm sure he is," Caldwell muttered.

"We don't know that!" Casey snapped. "And if he doesn't know about it he certainly will with this… _plan_." He shot Chuck a glare.

Caldwell leaned forward. "Why not just drag me away in handcuffs so Peter will come rescue me," she said. "That's just as likely to work as his crazy plan," she jerked a thumb in Chuck's direction.

The General closed her portfolio and stood up. "The decision has been made. We are implementing Chuck's plan, and it goes live today…"

Casey came to his feet in protest, "But General…"

"No buts, Colonel," she replied calmly. "Your only input at this point is whether you want to take point on it."

There was a sudden rush of heat around the collar of his shirt. "Uh… point?"

"Look at Casey," Chuck giggled. "He's all flustered."

Casey clenched his jaw, glared at Chuck, and gave a low growl.

"Colonel Casey," the General pulled his attention back, "do you want to pose as Ms. Caldwell's love interest, or should I pull in a junior officer for the assignment?"

"Ooooh, me! Me!" Grimes bounced up and down in his seat, his hand eagerly waving in the air.

Casey was certain the General wouldn't let Grimes take lead on such a sensitive op. Then again, a few moments earlier he was certain that she wouldn't green light Chuck's ridiculous plan.

"Calm down, please, Mr. Grimes," the General said, "You are NOT a junior officer."

Casey could feel Caldwell's eyes on him and he could feel the uncomfortable heat spread over his body. This was his op. He was the one that had brought Caldwell in. And she hated him for it. She made no point of hiding it.

"Colonel Casey?" the General prompted.

Casey hated pretending and make-believe. It wasn't his strongest skill. But the idea of stepping aside and letting someone else take the lead made him feel weak. Well, it made him feel _something_ and Casey chose to label it in terms of the job.

"I'll take point, ma'am." He avoided looking at Caldwell.

"It's official," Caldwell grumbled. "I'm in hell."


	4. Chapter 4 Pulling Guard

Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate it!

**Chapter Four – Pulling Guard**

_Pulling Guard: Some fighters are more comfortable fighting from their backs; instead of engaging the opponent in a stand-up war, they will grab the opponent and pull him down to their full guard position. This is uncommon because it practically requires cooperation on the part of your opponent to get into this position._

It had been a long day and Casey was looking forward to a hot shower.

To implement Chuck's plan, they cut surveillance down to just Caldwell's house and kid and made it more obvious. A van in the street, different officers coming and going, and when Evangeline went out she had at least two escorts.

They hoped the obvious presence would keep Smythe away from the kid. And to encourage contact, they reduced the number of officers shadowing Caldwell. Casey posed as a single obvious body guard, but they had constant electronic monitoring via his watch. With the push of a button he could summon others to their location.

The only part of Chuck's plan yet to be implemented was the love interest part. If Casey weren't so physically exhausted, he might have felt on edge about that.

Over the course of the day he had followed Caldwell through a three mile run, a yoga class, three Tae Kwon Do classes, and two private lessons. Now there was a burning sensation in many of his muscles and Casey considered that maybe his time on Team Bartowski had left him soft. Possibly in more ways than one.

Casey waited for Caldwell to see the last student off and watched as she locked the front door of her dojang. When she turned around to face him, he said, "I'm going to grab a shower and then we can go."

She shook her head. "No, you're not."

He raised an eyebrow. "Beg your pardon?"

"No shower," she said, shaking her head and moving towards him. "Not for _you_… not _now_."

She quickly closed the remaining distance, jumped in the air, and launched a side kick at his solar plexus. He stepped to the side and angled his body away from the kick. He felt a firm breeze as she flew by him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snapped as she landed a foot away from him.

She dropped to the mat and swung one leg around, connecting with his ankle and sweeping him off his feet. He landed on his back, his lungs expelling a good amount of air. She laughed. He stared at the florescent light above him, feeling several new sources of pain, and pondering again whether he was going soft.

"We don't have time for this," he growled.

She walked over to him and made the mistake of coming within his reach. "Maybe not, but I **need** this," she said. "I **need** to kick your ass, you incredibly huge horse's ass…!"

He reached out with one hand, grabbed one of her ankles and jerked her off her feet. She let out a surprised yelp as she became airborne. She rotated in mid air and landed on her stomach a few feet away from him. He rolled away from her and came to his feet as smoothly as he could considering his complaining muscles.

He waited for her to come to her feet and face him. "Hey," he said with a smirk, "Guess I needed this too."

She gave him a predatory smile and advanced again, this time bringing a series of kicks. He blocked most of them, but caught one hook kick with his chin.

"Ouch!"

She danced out of his reach as he rubbed his jaw. "Oh you big baby, that wasn't even full contact."

"I'm supposed to be protecting you!" he said. "And now you've got me wanting to kick **your** ass!"

She wore a satisfied smirk. "Good, because that's how it's going to start."

"It…?"

She stopped bouncing and put one hand on her hip. "You were at the meeting this morning, right? You have your orders, Colonel," she said, trying to imitate the General's manner.

His heart stopped for just a moment and he could feel a fresh layer of sweat forming on his palms. He pushed thoughts of romance and pretending out of his mind and focused on being the horse's ass she thought he was.

"So you're _that_ kind of girl," he said with a sneer.

She tilted her head to the side. "Think you're man enough to handle me, Casey?"

"Why don't you come find out," he replied.

She came at him again with a flurry of kicks. He stepped back, timing her. When she hopped in with a front leg side kick, he blocked it with his foot. He grabbed her lead arm and pulled her closer, disrupting her balance, and grabbed her opposite hip with his free hand. He pressed his hip against hers and with a properly placed pop she was up in the air again. He brought her down to the floor with more power than necessary, and she grunted as she hit the mat.

She glared at him. "You know I hate this bullshit, right?" she breathed, her words seething with emotion.

He released his hold on her, but continued to hover over her. "Really? I'm just starting to enjoy it."

She clenched her jaw and he knew he should move, but his muscles wouldn't work fast enough. She brought her legs up, wrapped them around his waist in a scissors lock and forcefully rolled over.

It seemed like she was on top of him before he even made it to the mat. She unwound her legs from him, forced him on to his stomach, and snaked her arms around his neck. She fastened her arms in a choke hold, one forearm applying light pressure to his carotid artery, one hand pushing lightly on the back of his head. If she got serious about it, he would be unconscious in somewhere around 13 seconds.

She put her lips to his ear, "I'm a Marine, not a spy," she growled. "Having to pretend I'm interested in you is ridiculous!"

It was odd the way those words went right to his stomach. He forced his hand up between her forearm and his neck, which he wouldn't have been able to do if she had been serious about the hold, and then rolled over so she was underneath him. He broke her hold, sat up and spun around so that he was straddling her.

He planned to pin her wrists to the mat and hit her with a bitter come back but stopped once he saw her face. Her mask of hate had slipped and she looked slightly soft and more than a little vulnerable. Her hazel eyes shimmered, the golden threads intensifying.

"I know," he said.

She held his eyes a moment longer and then twisted her hips half-heartedly trying to knock him off. He went with it, allowing her to get up. She quickly got to her feet.

"I can't do this." She turned and started to walk towards the locker room.

Casey realized he'd made a tactical error taking the soft approach. He pushed up to his feet, and followed her.

"Then let me make it easier for you…"

He wrapped his arms around her middle, lifted her in the air and slammed her back down to the mats. He followed her down this time and before she could catch her breath, he straddled her, grabbing both wrists and pinning them to mat.

"Bastard!" she exhaled, trying to roll her hips over to push him off again.

Except this time he wouldn't let her. He dropped more of his weight onto her hips. "Yeah, keep doing that. I like it," he said with a sneer.

She stilled and put her eyes on his face. They were back to her normal shade of hate. "Listen," he said in his calmest voice, "this time neither of us have a choice. I say we just get on with it so we can either prove it's not going to work or miracle of miracles Smythe decides to intervene."

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Let me up."

He released her and quickly got up and moved away from her. He didn't really want to spend much more time rolling around on the ground with her.

She slowly came to her feet, holding her eyes on his. She moved her eyes from his face, down over his torso, and over his legs. She spent several long moments studying his bare feet. A new kind of heat began to build between his skin and the dobok he was wearing.

She continued her visual journey, slowly bringing her eyes upwards. She took a few extra seconds looking at each hand and then lingered over his shoulders. He felt oddly exposed… vulnerable even, and he didn't like it.

She finally locked her eyes on his and he noticed they were darker than he'd ever seen them – no green or gold was visible from where he stood. She tilted her head for a moment and parted her lips as if she were going to say something.

She moved on him again, but this time slower. She brought up a front snap kick and left it hanging long enough for him to wrap his hands around her foot. Her eyes stayed on his. The heat continued to build across the entire surface of his body. He released her foot and took a step back.

She followed him, twisted her hips and sent a lazy roundhouse at his head with the other leg. He met foot with another gentle rebuff – his palm cupping the top of her foot for just a moment. The heat was now accompanied by a wave of tension, starting at his neck and slowly moving down his chest. He took another step back.

She stepped forward again, and brought up her leg in a relaxed axe kick. He waited for the contact of her heel on his shoulder and was surprised at how gentle it was. He put one hand on her ankle and held her in place. She took a small hop forward, pressing the entire length of her leg against his torso and Casey felt as if he had been set on fire. He brought his free hand to her leg and gently traced the flow of her calf. When he brushed his hand over the back of her knee, her eyelids fluttered and her breath got caught for just a moment.

He was pretty sure the pretending had just crossed into the realm of reality, at least for him, and he knew he should reset it somehow. But his hand seemed to have a plan of its own. It continued up the strong muscles of her thigh.

She slowly moved both hands to his chest, and pressed her palms against his pectorals. She rolled her head to the side languidly. Then she pushed him away. It was a half-hearted push, but it was enough to break their embrace.

He took a couple of steps backwards until his back hit the storefront windows. She brought her leg down and stared at him for a moment. Then she gave him a sexy smile and closed the space between them.

She looked up into his eyes. With the smile still on her lips and her voice feathered she said, "You know I hate you, right?"

That managed to disentangle reality from pretending in a hurry. He took a deep breath and then exhaled forcefully. "Yeah, mission accomplished there, Marine."

She gave a languid nod of her head and then slowly pressed her body into his. She felt like a wave surging over his body, molding to him as if she were trying to destroy the physical boundary between them. It was a sensation he hadn't experienced before.

Something stirred a few inches below the black belt tied around his waist and he tried to concentrate on listing the missions he'd run in 1995... in alphabetical order. But the moment her lips pressed against his, his brain shut down and his body took over.

His hands moved to her hips. Her hands were more hesitant, one slipping under his arm and moving to his back, the other finding gentle purchase on his shoulder. He was surprised but pleased that her eyes were open. They were still dark, still focused on him.

She tilted her head to the side, changing the angle of the kiss. He parted his lips, and watching her eyes, carefully pressed his tongue against her lips. There was no hesitation in her response. When her lips opened and their tongues met, there was a small explosion at the back of his head.

He pulled away from her and moved a hand to the back of his head, half expecting to find a fresh head wound. He found nothing.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Something wrong?"

He looked at her and suddenly noticed things he hadn't before. The freckles that were sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. The way her nose turned up slightly. The way her golden-red eyelashes reflected the light. The perfect curve of her bottom lip.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. He lowered his hand and hesitated to set it back on her hip.

She tilted her head and ran her eyes over his face. After a moment of study she purposefully moved her hand over his shoulder, to his neck, and up into his hair. "That's good," she said, pressing her lips to his in a teasing kiss. "Because we have an audience."


	5. Chapter 5 Over Hook

Author's Note:

Because I think every story needs a sound track, thought I'd share what I've been listening to while writing this story:

War ~ Edwin Starr (King Britt Remix)

She Don't Want Nobody Near ~ Counting Crows

Busted ~ Matchbox Twenty

Hero ~ Chad Kroeger

Lay Your Hands on Me ~ Bon Jovi

Round Here ~ Counting Crows

Horseshoes & Hand Grenades ~ Green Day

Ungodly Hour ~ The Fray

I Saw ~ Matt Nathanson

Bring Me to Life ~ Evanescence

Disease ~ Matchbox 20

Secret ~ Maroon 5

Harder to Breathe ~ Maroon 5

Tangled ~ Maroon 5

The Story ~ Brandi Carlile

By My Side ~ 3 Doors Down

A Murder of One ~ Counting Crows

21 Guns ~ American Idiot Cast

Untitled Hidden Track (Away from the Sun) ~ 3 Doors Down

Grace is Gone ~ Dave Matthews Band

Happiness ~ The Fray

Keep the Faith ~ Bon Jovi

Fix You ~ Coldplay

Your Arms Feel Like Home ~ 3 Doors Down

**Chapter Five – Over Hook**

_Over hook (single/double): putting your arm over your opponents arm, typically at elbow level, and holding his midsection or upper body; two over hooks is called double over hook and clasping your hands together can lead to a bear hug. Generally, over hooks are less advantageous than under hooks and are primarily used as a defense mechanism against double under hooks._

Smythe never made contact despite them rolling across her storefront window for several minutes and then disappearing into the locker room for a good 30 minutes. She kept up the show on the way back to her house, leaning into him and keeping one hand on him at all times. It made it difficult to concentrate on driving.

After doing a great imitation of hormone fueled teenagers making out on her porch, they quickly ushered Walker and Bartowski out the door, sent the boys in the van home, and chased each other around her living room… with the curtains open.

They kissed their way up the stairs, but the minute they turned the corner, she pushed him away. "Enough," she said in a low growl.

He raised his hands in a sign of surrender. "Okay, okay… just doing my job here."

She frowned at him and turned away, headed for her daughter's room. He followed her and watched as she checked on the girl, pulling the covers up and putting a kiss on her forehead.

She turned to face him and immediately frowned again. She walked past him and pointed at the doorway on his left. "Guest bedroom, Colonel Casey."

He followed her into her bedroom. She spun on him the moment he crossed the threshold. "What do you think you're doing?" she snapped.

"If he comes through that window," Casey pointed at the bay window on the south wall, "I'm going to be here." He pointed down at the floor.

She opened her mouth like she was going to protest, but seemed to re-think it. The muscles in her face tightened. "Fine, but you're sleeping on the floor."

"Don't think so," he said moving toward the bed and pulling his polo shirt free of his jeans. "He might peek in and the whole thing is blown." He sat down on the bed and untied a shoe. "You don't want all that panting and petting to be for nothing, do you?" He glanced up at her.

She took an angry step towards him. "How do you do it, Casey?" she barked. "How do you look yourself in the mirror each morning?"

He pulled off his shoe and let it drop to the floor. "Pardon me?"

"Here you are practically holding me hostage... forcing me to help you... putting me and my daughter in danger..."

"Typical," he said with a derisive snort. He put his attention on untying the other shoe.

She was quiet for a moment then snapped, "What?"

He looked at her. "It's much easier to play the martyr than do a little self reflection."

"Pardon _me_?" she asked, her voice growing strained.

He dropped the other shoe. "It's not like I picked you out at random, Caldwell. You made choices that landed you here. You knew what this guy was like and you _chose_ to be with him. For almost three years!"

Her face paled, her anger seeming to drain away with the color.

"You two called retirement going rogue... you knew what he was capable of! You got pregnant and decided you didn't want him around because you knew he was dangerous!"

"That's not why…" she said softly.

"If you were smart, you would have disappeared before you started showing!" He came to his feet. "Different name, different country… maybe even fake your own death. **That** would have been the only way to truly make your child safe!"

"I… I couldn't…" she stuttered.

He noticed her eyes changing, becoming glassy, and he noticed that she suddenly looked small and defenseless. He just didn't care. "Yeah, obviously **you** couldn't! So don't blame **me** for a mess you got yourself into! And don't act like you're the only one that has sacrificed for corps and country and for people you love! You have no idea…!"

He realized he had suddenly switched topic from her to himself and he abruptly shut up. He clenched his jaw as his stomach churned. She stared at him for several moments, and he watched as she went from small and defenseless back to an angry brick wall.

"You're a prick," she bit off.

"At least I know what I am!" he growled.

She glared at him for several long moments. She finally turned away from him, stormed into the bathroom, and slammed the door.

"It's a little late to run and hide now, woman!" he yelled moving toward the door. He stared at the door, anger rolling through his muscles.

"You take your time in there… maybe do some self reflection," he said, tapping the door angrily with his knuckles. "But then you'll be coming out here and curling up with me in bed like we just had the most amazing sex in the world! If _that_ _guy_ shows up tonight, we're going to convince him we've got something you and he never had! And you know why?" He didn't wait for a response from her. "Because I can't wait to get this shitty op over with!"

With a final angry knock on the door, he walked back to the bed, pulling his shirt over his head as he went. "And you better not come out of there wearing flannel pajamas!"

The door flew open behind him and slammed into the wall with enough force to make a dent in the drywall. He spun around to find her moving toward her closet. She rattled hangers around and then jerked one out and spun to face him.

"How about this, Colonel, Casey?" she spit. "Will this work for you?"

He glanced at the garment long enough to see that it was ivory, short and sheer, and would leave very little to the imagination. He put his eyes back on hers. "Perfect!"

She roughly pulled the gown free and tossed the hanger back towards the closet. She let the garment fall to the floor and proceeded to undress. Angrily. Jerky movements and throwing clothes.

The only light in the room came from bathroom and casted shadows over much of her body, but he saw enough. She was the perfect combination of soft curves and toned muscle. Her auburn hair slid over her shoulder pulling his attention to her breasts.

He was enveloped in a wave of heat and knew that a particular appendage would soon try to stage a coup, but he didn't look away. She stood in front of him for a few moments completely naked, her eyes boring into him.

She was the most beautiful, unbelievably sexy marine he had ever seen.

Xox0oxoX

Caldwell stood up, kicked her chair and snarled. "I'm against it, but obviously my vote doesn't count!"

The meeting had been moved to Caldwell's home and they were sitting around her dining room table when the General delivered the bad news. Casey would be taking Caldwell and her kid to the park for a picnic. He wasn't any happier about it than she was, but he waited for Caldwell to storm out of the room before speaking his mind.

"General, with all due respect, I don't see how this is going to help anything."

"It's quite simple, Colonel. Seeing you with Caldwell wasn't enough to make Smythe do something stupid, so we're increasing the stakes. Perhaps if he sees you three as a happy family…"

"The girl hasn't exactly, uh taken to me…"

"Her name is Evangeline," Chuck said. "Maybe if you tried talking to her…"

Casey glanced at Chuck and snarled and then put his eyes back on the General. "You're putting the girl at risk…"

The General stood up. "Yes, and because of that, there will be plenty of people around you today." The General stared down at him for a few moments. "Any other complaints, Colonel?"

Oh he had plenty of complaints. But Casey just gave a quick shake of his head. "No, ma'am."

"Very good. Carry on and keep me informed of the progress," she said with a nod and headed for the front door.

The team disbursed. All except for Walker. She was staring at him. He turned to meet her stare. "What?"

It looked like she was fighting a smile. "Everything okay?"

"No," he snapped. "This assignment sucks."

"It's not easy… pretending to be in a relationship."

"Oh, it wouldn't be a problem with any _normal_ woman… but that woman…!" he jabbed a finger towards the stairs.

Walker waited for a few moments and then prompted, "What about her?"

"She… she…!"

"You're getting flustered again," Walker said, the edges of her mouth inching upwards.

He felt his cheeks getting warm. "She's a total chore!"

Walker smiled. "Keep telling yourself that, Casey. It might work."


	6. Chapter 6 Submission Hold

**Chapter Six – Submission Hold**

_Submission Hold: a choke or joint manipulation that is meant to cause an opponent to submit or "tap out"._

The drive to the park was painful. The girl chattered almost the whole ride. Casey tried to focus on watching for a tail, but when she started making up new words for everyday items, Casey lost all concentration.

He parked and looked at Caldwell. She was scanning the area for threats. "You know I still think this is a rotten idea, right?" she asked under her breath.

"Yeah."

"And you know I'm holding you accountable, right?"

He gritted his teeth. "Of course."

"Okay. Good." She stared at him for a moment then put her hands to either side of her mouth and forced the corners up. "Ready, John?" she said loud enough for the girl to hear.

It felt weird hearing her address him by his first name. He forced a smile as well, "Born ready, Joelle."

She nodded, did another quick scan and got out of the car. Casey followed suit. Caldwell got the kid out of her seat in back and set her on the ground then went to the trunk and opened it.

As he watched her, Casey's stomach slanted and he felt short of breath. It was possible he was drowning in domesticity.

"I want a ride!" the little girl screeched. "I want a ride!"

Casey looked at the miniature person, and felt his stomach quiver when he realized she was targeting him.

"Just a moment, Angel," Caldwell said, "I've got to get this stuff…"

"Not you, mommy. Him!"

She pointed a plump little hand up at him. Caldwell peeked around the edge of the trunk. "Really?"

"Yes, mommy. He's tall!"

Caldwell gave him a small smile.

Casey shook his head. "Don't think that's a good idea…"

Caldwell's smile went nuclear and she disappeared back into the trunk and he thought he heard her laughing.

"I want a ride!" the girl said, stomping a pink Converse on the asphalt.

Caldwell emerged from the trunk with a basket and a blanket, and closed the lid. "You keep acting like that and there will be no ride from _anybody_."

The little girl stuck out her bottom lip and crossed her arms over her chest.

Caldwell shook her head. "That won't work either."

The little girl dropped her arms and let out a small sigh. "I'm sorry, mommy."

Caldwell nodded. "You're forgiven. Now, was there something you wanted to ask Mr. Casey? Nicely?"

The girl took a step closer to him. "Would you give me an ostrich ride, Mr. Casey? Please?"

Casey looked at Caldwell. "Ostrich ride?"

Caldwell smiled. "Shoulders. She wants to ride on your shoulders."

"He has big shoulders, mommy."

"That's because he's not totally human, sweetie." Caldwell looked him in the eye. "He's part demon."

Casey gave a low growl at Caldwell and then looked at the girl and watched her eyes go wide.

"What's a demon?"

Caldwell laughed. "Not important right now, sweetheart. I'm just kidding."

The girl looked over her mother's face and then back at Casey. "Ostrich ride! Ostrich ride!" she sang, clapping her hands together.

Casey finally gave in. "Okay, but I'm still missing the bird connection…" He thought he caught Caldwell blushing.

"Well, it's not a piggyback ride in my book," Caldwell said, "and she sorta reminds me of an ostrich when she's up there bobbing around… it's just…"

She was definitely blushing. He curled his lips in a slight smile.

"We needed a name for it…" She stopped and looked at him, and then smiled. "Just get down on one knee, John."

Again with the first name.

He reluctantly got down on one knee and the girl threw herself at him. He noticed two things immediately. She smelled like nothing he'd ever smelled before. Clean… fresh… delicate… like peach cobbler and ice cream. And she was full of energy. Practically radiating it.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, put one foot on his bent leg, and then gracefully swung her legs up over his shoulders and situated herself. She wrapped her fists in the collar of his shirt and started bouncing lightly.

"Now what?" he asked Caldwell.

"Really?" she laughed. "Hold her thighs or feet and stand up."

He carefully put his hands on her legs and slowly stood up. Caldwell grabbed toward his hips and he sidestepped her, not sure what she was doing. The girl swayed on his shoulders and started to giggle.

Caldwell shook her head at him. "The keys… I need to lock the car."

"Oh. Of course." He angled his right hip in a way to make it easier for her to get into his pocket. He tried to ignore the warm sensations that raced over his body as she groped for the keys. The fact that she didn't bother to take the keys out of his pocket as she pressed the lock button didn't help matters.

As they walked toward the playground, Casey scanned the area, looking for familiar faces. He only recognized one, but that didn't mean that there weren't others.

"You haven't been around kids much, have you," she said.

He glanced down at her and found that she was scanning the area as well. "Uh, no."

She caught his eyes for a moment. "So, no marriages? No kids?"

He wondered if she was doing this as part of their cover or whether she was being real. And he hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether tell the truth. "Uh, no..." he looked away from her. "No on both counts."

She gave him a thoughtful nod. "Then Evangeline is going to be good therapy for you, John."

"Who said I need therapy?" he asked.

She gave a small laugh. "We all need therapy.

If he thought about that for long, he might agree with it. "So, how does small fry fit into my therapy?"

"She's going to teach you how to play."

"That way, Mr. Casey! That way!" the girl pointed toward a climbing structure.

He glanced at Caldwell and she gave him a small nod. "You go play. I'll set up our lunch." She stopped and looked around.

"Not too far away," he said.

She met his eyes, "Of course not."

He watched her as she walked toward a shady patch of grass on the edge of the playground. She was wearing a pink tank and khaki cargo shorts with a pair running shoes. He had never really seen her like that before – casual. Most of the time she was somewhat stiff and rigid, but now, she seemed… softer. More relaxed. And it showed in the way she moved, her hips easing from left to right… damn sexy.

He was suddenly aware of the girl on his shoulders. "Do you like my mommy, Mr. Casey?"

The child spoke loudly as most kids do, and Caldwell heard her. She glanced over her shoulder at him with a wry smile.

He really had no options. "Yes, I do."

"Are you going to marry her?"

"What?" Casey squeaked.

He could hear Caldwell laugh.

The child leaned over his shoulder like she was trying to see his face. "You know… dum dum de dum…" she started singing the wedding march. "Big church. Fancy dresses. Pretty flowers. You marry mommy."

He gave Caldwell a desperate look. She gave a carefree shrug.

"Uhm… well… that's a big thing you're talking about there…"

"Weddings are fun!"

"Yes, but, uhm…"

Caldwell gave a wave toward the climbing structure and Casey understood. The girl wasn't even four years old… surely she could be easily distracted.

"Hey, I bet you can't climb to the top of that thing by yourself," Casey said.

"Oh yes I can!" she replied, quickly sliding around his shoulders and down his body. "Watch me!"

xoxOxox

It was a different kind of fatigue chasing a kid around a playground, trying to play with her and keep her safe at the same time. He felt awkward at first, playing hide and seek and follow the leader. But after awhile he became more focused on the child – watching how she played, listening to the stories she made up, and trying to see the wonderful world she did. It made him wonder what Alex had been like at this age. It gave new meaning to his sacrifice, and if he thought about it too long it would probably ruin the moment.

Caldwell had to drag them off the playground to have lunch and the small fry insisted on sitting on his lap. He caught Caldwell's eyes and saw that they were more than a little sad. It took Casey a moment to realize why. Evangeline was becoming attached to him. No matter how the whole thing ended, it wouldn't be fair to the girl.

As they packed up to go, the girl busied herself picking flowers. When Caldwell called her back, the girl held up a bouquet of violets and weeds to her. Caldwell acted like it was a dozen roses and promised to put them in a vase when they got home.

Casey picked up the basket and Caldwell took the blanket. Small fry positioned herself between them, taking each of their hands. Casey looked from Caldwell to the girl. Picture perfect happy family. And he only felt like he was drowning a little bit.

They got to the car, unlocked it, and opened the trunk. As they were putting the things in the trunk, Casey noticed a black van at the end of the lot. It accelerated suddenly coming directly at them.

"Oh shit!" Caldwell cursed.

Casey looked at her and saw that she was looking back toward the park. Casey pressed the button on the side of his watch that would signal trouble to the rest of the team.

"That's a bad word, Mommy," Evangeline said.

Casey hadn't panicked in… well, years. But his heart was suddenly beating through his chest and he could feel the adrenaline burn into his system.

"Go!" he said to Caldwell in a tense, low voice.

"Don't you think I would if I could?" she answered in the same tone.

Her attention was still focused in the opposite direction of his. He glanced over his shoulder and saw two Asian men approaching them from the park side, each discretely carrying a suppressed pistol.

"Your Ex friendly with the Yakuza?" Casey asked, and pressed the button on his watch again. He scanned the area and saw no immediate help.

The van screeched to a stop in front of them, the sliding door opened, and three Asian men jumped out each carrying a semi-automatic machine gun. They pointed the weapons at them, but stayed a good five yards out of fighting range, taking positions at his 10 o'clock, 11 o'clock, and one o'clock.

"How should I know?" she snapped. She pressed in next to him, pushing Evangeline behind them.

"Mommy… what's going on, Mommy?" Evangeline said, trying to push her way out.

Casey put his left hand on Evangeline's shoulder and held her still. "Time to be quiet, now," he said in a firm whisper.

Casey glanced over his shoulder and saw that the two men with pistols had stopped at the front of the car, one on each side, effectively boxing them in. He scanned the area again, thought about his options, and came up short. He had never been caught in a deadly situation with a child before. He had no idea how to protect her and kill the bad guys at the same time.

Another man emerged from the van and took a cocky stance directly in front of Caldwell. Clearly the boss, he was dressed nicer than the others and had no visible weapon. "Ms. Caldwell," he spoke with a thick Japanese accent, "we need you and your daughter to come with me."

"Never going to happen," Casey said.

The man glanced at him and then immediately put his attention back on Caldwell. "If you cooperate, I will spare his life."

Casey eyed Caldwell. Her face and body were rigid and he couldn't get a read on her.

"Whose life?" she asked.

His heart hesitated and then started beating against its normal rhythm. He couldn't figure out if she was stalling or really considering the deal.

The man gave a small, knowing smile then lifted his head at Casey. "Your bodyguard there."

"You're not really considering this?" he growled under his breath.

"Of course not," she responded in the same manner. "Get ready."

He took a breath and forced his heart back into a normal rhythm.

"Mommy, I'm scared," Evangeline spoke in a small, wavering voice.

"It's okay, sweetie," Caldwell said loud enough for all to hear. She moved slowly, keeping her eyes on the boss, and eased down to her knees then faced Evangeline.

Casey knew both Caldwell and Evangeline were now shielded from the two shooters on his six by the car. And they were shielded from one of the others by his body. He wondered if that was as good as they were going to get.

"No tricks, Ms. Caldwell. Or someone will be hurt," the boss warned, taking a nervous step forward.

Casey had to strain to hear Caldwell's words to her daughter. "Remember that game, pill bug?" she whispered.

Casey pictured a pill bug and tried to anticipate what this game would be.

"Yes, mommy…" Evangeline sniffed.

"We're going to play it now."

Casey's right hand began to twitch.

"Right now?" Evangeline asked.

"Right, NOW!"

Casey was aware of their movement at his feet. Caldwell blanketed Evangeline with her body. Casey reached for the Sig Sauer holstered under his button down. He felt Caldwell's hand brush his calf as she went for his ankle holster.

Casey knew the odds were impossible and somebody was going to end up with some new battle scars. In fact, if they didn't get some back up fire support in a hurry, they would be lucky to make it out of this alive.

He flicked the snap on his shoulder holster and wrapped his fingers around the Sig. He heard a single suppressed gunshot on his six and waited for the searing pain.

The driver of the van started yelling in Japenese.

Casey pulled the Sig free and flipped the safety. He felt Joelle pull the 22 from his ankle.

There was another muffled shot behind him, but still no pain.

The boss started yelling and waving his hands in their direction.

Casey saw a blur of movement on his right, and taking the chance that it was the good guys, he aimed at the gunman at 11 o'clock and fired. Muzzle flash erupted between his legs giving him an odd sensation.

There was a short burst of automatic gunfire from Mr. One O'clock and Casey felt a distant fire erupt in his right shoulder.

Casey's bullet ripped through his target's skull, spraying blood and other matter all over the boss. The body started to fall toward the asphalt. The boss lunged for the van.

He turned toward the 10 o'clock shooter and found him already in a death fall. He faced the guy at one o'clock and saw that he was already on the ground.

Two figures approached at 3 o'clock and Casey swung his gun towards them. It was Walker and Bartowski. They were aiming at their weapons at the van.

The van was moving, tires squealing on the asphalt. Casey took aim at the boss through the still open door, and started firing. Walker and Bartowski opened fire on the van as it sped past them.

They continued to fire at the van, until it fishtailed a left turn and quickly sped out of view.

Casey looked down at his feet and his heart stopped when he saw nothing there except a scattering of violets and weeds.

"Casey! You okay?" Chuck asked, coming to a stop at his side.

Casey jerked his head around and turned his body in a full circle, searching the parking lot. He saw five dead bodies, a pond of blood, a handful of terrified witnesses, Chuck's concerned face, and Walker talking on her cell phone. What he didn't see were the only two things he cared about.

"Casey, you've been shot!" Chuck said.

"Focus on what's really important here, Bartowski," Casey growled. "Where are they?"

Chuck ran his eyes over Casey's face and wrinkled his brow slightly. Then he reached out a hand and closed the trunk. Casey turned and saw Joelle sitting in the back seat of the car. She had her head bent down and was swaying slightly from left to right.

Casey took a deep breath and his heart finally started beating again. He walked around to the driver's side and looked in the back window. He could see that Angel was clinging to her mother's chest and Jo was stroking her back with her left hand while still holding the gun in her right. Jo looked up at him.

"You both okay?" he asked through the window.

She nodded. "Take us some place safe, John."

[_Cue Ungodly Hour by The Fray_]


	7. Chapter 7 Clinch

Author's note: Thanks so much for the new reviews! I enjoy reading them. And a warning: Chapter 8 isn't anywhere close to being readable, so it might be a few weeks before I can post it.

**Chapter Seven – Clinch**

_Clinch: a position in which two fighters are face to face, usually with their arms and upper bodies locked, performed for either a 'breather' or to protect against strikes._

He took them to his apartment. They had safe houses, of course, but none of them were as secure as his own apartment. At least not in his opinion.

The team joined them in discreet groups. First Walker and Bartowski. Then the General and a couple of other NSA officers. Then a medic and a child psychiatrist that Caldwell had requested.

The medic wanted him to go to a hospital, but he refused. He only took one round in the fleshy part of his right shoulder and the bullet passed through. He sat bare-chested at his dining room table as the medic stitched him and tried to focus on the debriefing.

He heard them say that four people on the surveillance team had been hit with tranquilizer darts before the gun battle even started. Everyone agreed that was odd. The bodies hadn't been identified yet, but it was generally accepted that they were Yakuza.

He found himself not caring about any of that. His mind was on Jo, Angel and the psychiatrist who were meeting in his bedroom.

When the medic was done bandaging his wound, he started talking at him, but Casey didn't really pay attention. The young man handed him a bottle of pills that Casey assumed were pain killers. Casey grabbed the bottle, got up, and walked towards his den with no real purpose.

When he got to the kitchen he heard the General's voice, but stopped only long enough to grab a bottle of scotch and a rock glass from a cabinet. He walked down the short hallway and into the spare bedroom that he had transformed into a gym and closed the door behind him.

He looked around the room at the equipment. Weight bench, stair stepper, hanging bag, rack of martial arts weapons. He considered the pills. He didn't feel any pain. He mostly felt fog. He couldn't understand how everything had gotten so far out of his control. Why hadn't he seen the van earlier? Why wasn't he more prepared? How could she ever forgive him? And why did he even care?

That thought caused pain, but not the kind he wanted.

He set the pills, liquor, and glass on the floor under the window, kicked off his shoes, and pulled off his socks. Then he approached the 80-lb. bag. He threw a couple of loose kicks at it. His muscles were still sore, and he felt good when the burn started. At least he had something to focus on besides Jo and Angel.

He started throwing punches and pain flared in his right shoulder. He grunted and punched harder. He continued to attack the bag, and each time the pain flared, he hit the bag harder. He had no idea how long he'd been at it when her soft voice pulled his attention away.

"If you're trying to open up that bullet wound, I'd be happy to do it for you."

He turned to find her standing a few feet away. She had entered the room, and closed the door without him even noticing. Weird thing was she didn't look mad.

He took a few breaths and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

She pointed at his wound. "You've got it bleeding pretty good there."

He ignored his shoulder and kept his eyes on hers. "How is she?" he asked.

She stepped closer to him. "Angel?" He nodded. "Physically she's fine. Mentally… well, she's probably going to have nightmares for a while."

His stomach rolled. "But eventually she'll be okay?"

She hesitated and angled her eyes away from him from him for a quick moment. "Doc thinks she will learn to deal with it."

That didn't sound as bright as he was hoping for. "Joelle, I'm sorry…"

Her eyes widened and she interrupted him. "What…?"

"I know it's not enough, but I'm sorry for what happened in the park…" his voice was shaking slightly and he started talking faster. "I should have seen it coming... should have been ready… never should have…"

He let his words trail off as reached up and pressed a finger to his lips. "As much as I'd like to blame you for this, I can't." She held his eyes for a moment and then let her hand fall to her side. "Peter wasn't behind that attempt at the park. Not directly at least. And if you hadn't been there… if I hadn't been aware of the situation… those men would have won. They would have taken Angel and me and used us against Peter… then they probably would have killed us all…"

He noticed that her eyes looked different as she looked at him. Rich green with flecks of gold woven through them.

"So I'm here to offer you my thanks," she said, her voice growing softer. He watched her lips as she spoke. "Thank you, John, for being there for us."

"I… uh… you…" He couldn't focus his thoughts while staring at her lips. He closed his eyes, exhaled sharply, and took a step back. He opened his eyes but avoided looking at her lips. "How do you know Smythe wasn't behind it?"

"Peter has never been much of a team player. If he wanted us, he'd come himself, not send a group of thugs."

"Maybe he's changed," Casey said.

She stared at him for a few moments then said, "He was there, John. I saw him."

"What?"

She nodded. "Peter was at the park. He took out the two guys that came up behind us."

Casey replayed the scene in his head, fitting Smythe into it.

"He might have taken out more than that," she said. She studied his face and tilted her head to the side. "How did you think it went down? We were outgunned and out positioned…"

"I know!" Casey snapped. "We should have had back up! But the team…"

"That was Peter too," she said softly.

He took a step closer. "Pardon?"

"Those four that got hit with tranq darts… The only explanation is Peter. And… he was probably planning on tranqing you as well."

"Like hell," Casey snarled.

She hesitated. "I'm guessing he was planning on taking Angel and me right up to the point when the Yakuza showed up."

Another thought occurred to him that made his stomach clench up tighter than his fists. He took another step forward, bringing her within his reach. "When did you see him exactly?" he asked.

She studied his face for a moment. "What? You think I knew he was there the whole time?"

"I don't know what to think," Casey growled.

After a few more moments of study she said, "You don't trust me, John?"

"Hard to trust someone with a past like yours…"

"Or yours!" she snapped, spinning on her heel and heading for the door.

He reached out, grabbed her arm, and spun her back around to face him. He wrapped his hands firmly around her upper arms.

"Just answer the question, Jo."

She gave him an angry stare and set her jaw. "I saw him when I got in the car with Angel…"

He waited for more, but she didn't offer anything else. "And?" he prompted.

"And… it was clear he wanted me to go with him."

Casey had difficulty controlling his breathing. "Why didn't you?"

She hesitated, her face softening. "In retrospect, I could say that it was because it wasn't safe for Angel."

"At the time then," he had to prompt her again, "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking," she said, her eyes starting to shimmer.

"You weren't thinking?" he repeated.

She shook her head slightly. "I was totally out of my mind… I've never been like that before. Having Angel there… I just… I wasn't thinking clearly."

He pulled her closer. "And…?"

She gave a shaky exhale. "The idea of leaving with Peter just didn't… feel right."

He was quiet for a few moments, considering her words. "I think you just said you choose me over him."

She closed her eyelids slowly and lowered her head. He put a hand under her chin and lifted it. She slowly opened her eyes.

"That is what you said, isn't it?"

She shook her head minutely. "That makes no sense," she said. "What we're doing here… it's not… not real."

He moved his hand to the side of her face and leaned his face closer to hers. He moved his thumb slowly over the smooth skin of her cheek and watched her eyes for any sign of resistance. He saw none. He pressed his lips to hers and then pulled back and checked her eyes.

She grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips back to hers. Then she deepened the kiss. And she felt different to him. Softer. More alive than their previous kisses. And he felt the hitch in his breathing as she moved her hands over his shoulders and chest leaving a trail of heat on his skin. He felt his knees weaken when she breathed his name between kisses. He moved his hands to her hips and pulled her body to his.

After a few more explorations, he pulled away and looked in her eyes. They weren't quite focused.

"Tell me that wasn't real," he said softly.

She hesitated for a few moments that seemed painfully long to him. "It was real for me," she whispered. He gave her a half-smile and she reached up and touched his lips with her fingers again. Then she looked in his eyes. "But that doesn't make it right."

His smile slipped away. She was going all female on him. "Don't do that…!" he growled.

He was interrupted by the door suddenly swinging open and Chuck walking in. Jo stiffened in his arms and then pulled away.

"Hey guys… " Chuck came to an awkward stop when he saw them. "Oh… oh… uhm… sorry…"

Casey set his jaw and looked at him. "What is it, Chuck?"

Jo turned to look at Chuck.

"Uhm… uh… " Chuck made some awkward hand gestures back toward the dining room. "The General … she uh…" Chuck focused on Joelle. "She agrees with you that you should go out tonight and attempt to contact Smythe."

Casey looked from Chuck to Joelle.

"Alone?" Joelle asked.

Chuck hesitated. "Uh… General says Casey has to go…"

"You better believe I'm going," Casey snapped moving closer to the other two.

Joelle shook her head. "It would be easier if I went alone," she said. "Make it easier for Peter to make contact."

"And the General agrees with that," Chuck said pointing at Joelle, "But she says it's too dangerous for you to go alone. And frankly…" Chuck hesitated then continued, "if you knew what Smythe has been up to the last several months you would agree."

"I'm going," Casey said. Joelle put her eyes on him. "Smythe was ready for the team today," he pointed out. "I'm pretty sure if he's motivated, he won't let little old me stand in his way."

She squared up to him and ran her eyes over his body. "I hope you've got something besides green polo shirts and short-sleeved button downs in your closet, Casey…"


	8. Chapter 8 Rear Naked Choke

**Chapter Eight – Rear Naked Choke**

_Rear Naked Choke: a type of choke that is applied behind an opponent upon capturing his back. A rear naked choke is one of the most advantageous types of chokes as far as positioning._

The girl weighed less than 30 pounds, but Casey's arms were getting tired. Evangeline had insisted on having him with her as she fell asleep. She curled up in his arms as Jo read her an entire volume of fairy tales.

Finally Jo agreed to give her daughter a mild sedative so that she would fall asleep and hopefully sleep through the night. Or at least until they made it back.

Once Evangeline was asleep, they went to his bedroom to change. Casey took his time changing, figuring Jo would be busy in his bathroom for a while. She had taken the liberty of going through his closet earlier that evening and had laid out a black suit and a deep blue dress shirt. He smiled. It was exactly what he would have chosen himself.

He left the jacket on the bed and pulled his shoe shine kit out of the closet. He had to do something with his nervous energy and his black shoes could use some buffing.

As he ran the soft brush over his shoes, he thought about the way Evangeline had felt in his arms. The way her hands felt as she rubbed small, distracted circles on his chest. The way she smelled. The way she slipped her thumb into her mouth despite her mother's disapproving look. How her breathing changed as she drifted into a heavy sleep. He might have enjoyed it all if he hadn't been so worried about her.

The bathroom door opened and when he looked up, he forgot all about Angel and the shine on his shoes. In fact, he forgot about breathing for moment or two and involuntarily came to his feet.

"Wow," he whispered.

She was wearing a sheath dress in a smoky purple shade that shimmered subtly with every move she made. It wasn't too low cut or too short. As she turned a slow circle in front of him, he noticed the way the two-inch heel on the silver sandals accentuated the sleek muscles of her calves. And the strap around the ankle was sexy as hell.

When she moved closer, he could see that the dress was covered in tiny, clear, beads not sequins. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, pulled up over her ear on one side, held in a jeweled clip.

She stopped a few feet away from him. "You realize Sarah picked this out. There's nothing like this in my closet."

He had a difficult time getting his eyes to her face. "I'll have to thank her later."

She stared at him blankly for a few moments and then smiled slightly. "And you realize this was intended for Peter, not you."

H e shook his head slightly and closed the distance between them. "You don't know Walker. It's not as simple as that…" he put his hands on her hips and moved his face towards hers.

She put a hand on his chest. "Let's save it for the show…"

His stomach tightened and he stepped back from her. "Did I miss something? Just a few hours ago you were all over me, woman," he said with a low growl.

She looked into his eyes. "And I said it wasn't right."

"You're thinking too much…" he tried.

She shook her head, "I'm not thinking clearly, and we both know it. My first priority has to be Angel."

"In case you hadn't noticed, Angel and I are pals now."

"I know… but what if… what if…" She paused and then turned for the door. "One thing at a time, Casey. Let's just focus on the mission."

OxOxOxOxO

He knew she was right. He should be focusing on the mission and not on whatever was happening between them. It was like their roles were reversed… she was the practical, business-minded Marine and he was the soft, easily distracted, blubbery female always focusing on his feelings. He didn't like it. It made him grumpy.

So they spent the drive in complete silence. He was just waiting for her to make the mistake and ask him what was wrong. But she never did. And no way was he going to be the one to break the silence.

She chose one of the trendiest clubs – one where the line to get in was a block long. If there was anything Casey disliked more than clubs, it was waiting in line to get in one. He was about to break the silence and tell her how stupid this was when she took his hand and pulled him toward the front of the line.

The bouncer was off his stool before they even reached him. "Master Caldwell!" the 6-foot-3-inch, blond haired man greeted her.

Jo dropped his hand and hugged the young man. "Hey David… it's been awhile."

After a few minutes of catching up, and an awkward introduction, David escorted them through the velvet ropes and to the door of the club despite the complaints of the rest of the line.

She took his hand and led him through the crowd. It was an unremarkable two story dance club. Large dance area on the main floor with a DJ spinning dance tracks and an extra large bar on each side. There were tables on the edge of the dance floor, and booths around the perimeter. The second floor was all booths and private boxes serviced by another bar.

Jo made her way through the crowds of people, examining the booths. She paused long enough to pull him close and put her lips to his ear. "When I get these guys on the dance floor, you grab the table. And when the waitress comes by, get me a white wine."

She didn't wait for his response, just headed for a booth of slackers. Five young men were crowded into the small booth, three of them playing with their smart phones and two of them drinking what was probably Shirley Temples and drooling over the closest group of scantily clad women. All five were probably well qualified for the Nerd Herd.

Casey watched as Joelle started talking to them. They were all quiet at first, resembling startled deer. She leaned over the table and five sets of eyes went to her cleavage. Casey didn't like it. Within a few moments she had them laughing. And within a couple of minutes she had them clamoring towards the dance floor. All five of them.

Casey moved toward the table. As the nerd train left the station, one of the kids thrust his fist into the air and yelled "Blood and thunder!" and the rest quickly replied with "For the Horde!"

Casey had to give a menacing glare to a couple that was headed for his table, and then claimed it for his own. Within a few minutes a waitress came by, cleared the Kool Aid off the table and took his order.

He watched Jo and the five nerds on the dance floor and tried to ignore the burning sensation in his stomach. She danced with all of them and with each one individually. The nerds were stiff and unnatural, but it didn't matter much with Jo moving fluidly at their center. She would occasionally put a hand on one of their shoulders and get him to move with her, but for the most part she maintained her personal space. As women moved close to their group, Jo magically opened up her nerd harem and pulled them in. By the time she left them, there were three other women in her place.

She walked toward him with a smile on her face. She slid into booth and moved in close to him.

"You have a way with nerds," he said.

She took a drink of the wine that had been delivered in her absence. "I've taught plenty of nerds at the dojang… they're diamonds in the rough."

Casey thought about Lester and Jeff and shook his head. "Not all of them."

She shrugged. "Most of them can be saved. They just need a little self confidence and to learn that World of Warcraft is not a reliable social network."

Casey laughed. Jo took another drink of wine, set the glass down, and angled her body toward him. She looked into his eyes and slowly lifted her hand toward his temple. She pushed her fingers through his hair in short gentle caresses.

He raised an eyebrow. "Part of the show?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

She gave him a flirtatious smile and a slight nod. "Peter is in the balcony." She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. "Saw him when I was dancing."

He turned away from her and took a drink of bourbon. He gritted his teeth as it burned down his throat. "Kinda hard to play this after being shot down." He stared into the glass of amber liquor.

She was quiet for a moment, her hand frozen at the back of his head. "Seriously?" she finally said. "You want to do this now?"

He finished off the drink and turned to face her. He reached out, put his hand on her face and pulled her in for a chaste kiss. "You bet your ass I do."

She looked at him and gave him a sexy smile. "Fine, but you better keep up the façade, Casey," she said in a low growl. The hair on the back of his neck bristled at her use of his surname. "This is has **got** to end tonight."

Then she kissed him. Fully. Hands moving over his torso, tongues chasing, her body pressing into him. When she pulled away, he had to take regulate his breathing.

In an effort to play along, he took her hand in his, and looked down at it. "Tell me what your problem is with the idea of us being…" he searched for a word that didn't sound like junior high. "…Real."

"I told you," she said, putting her hand under his chin and forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Angel. This is not the kind of life I want her to have."

"I'd say you're a little late. Smythe has already pulled her into it."

She exhaled and let her hand fall from his chin. She looked sad despite the sexy smile plastered on her face. "When this is over, I don't want her involved in anything like this ever again."

"Considering your past, there's no way to guarantee that," he countered.

"I know… but…," she said softly.

" In fact, it might be helpful to have another set of highly trained hands around the house," he said. Her eyebrows shot up and he realized the implication of his words. "I'm not saying we're going to move in together…"

"That would be wildly inappropriate," she said.

"I just mean that I would be around… you know…"

She ran her eyes over his face for a long moment. "She likes you, John. Really likes you. With my other…" she hesitated, "… lovers, Angel was too young to like them or miss them when they were gone. But you…" she forced a smile and leaned forward and gave him a serious kiss. Then she rested her forehead against his. "She's already asking me about happily ever afters. And with what happened today, she has really got an emotional tie to you." She paused and then said, "What happens if we don't work out? If we end up hating each other? I cannot bear breaking her heart like that."

"But you're okay with breaking mine?" he snapped without thinking.

She pulled back to look in his eyes. After another long moment she said, "Morgan told me you didn't have a heart."

"Grimes," he growled.

"I see," she said, wiggling her body over and straddling his. His body reacted to her immediately and he had a hard time staying angry. She ran her hands through his hair and gave him a sexy smile. "The fact that you have a heart is a highly guarded secret."

Casey shook his head slightly, feeling wildly out of control. He didn't like talking about relationships and emotions under any circumstances, and now doing it while having to pretend to be a happy, horny couple was putting him on edge. If Smythe showed up right now, Casey would tear him to pieces.

He put his hands on her thighs and pushed her dress up higher than it already was. Her eyes went wide in surprise. "Just kiss me," he growled.

And she did. And there was very little conversation from there on out. He let her pull him onto the dance floor when a slow, sexy song started playing. And by the time they were done, he was breathless and ready for a hotel room. She led him out of the club, and pushed him down the first alley they came to.

She pushed him up against the brick building and kissed him some more, her hands moving over his body. He tried to stop thinking about her words and focused instead on the feeling of her body under his hands. She pulled away from him, panting lightly, her hazel eyes clouded with what he hoped was desire. She looked into his eyes and put a hand on the side of his face. "Maybe…" she breathed….

He watched as her eyes rolled upwards, closed, and she slumped forward.

Casey would have known what happened even if he hadn't seen the small tranquilizer dart buried in her neck.


	9. Chapter 9 Slick Submissions

**Author's note: **I had a plan when I started this, but the characters are leading it in a slightly different direction. That's when it gets fun for me as an author. Hope you all find it fun too.

The role of Smythe is played (at least in my head) by Paul Blackthorne. He starred in The Dresden Files TV series and Big Shots (did anybody actually watch that?), and has been a bit character on Burn Notice, Leverage, and most recently White Collar. Unsolicited advertisement of the day: _The Dresden Files_ books by Jim Butcher are the best series I have ever read. The first three books take some perseverance, but after that they are amazing and just keep getting better.

**Chapter Nine – Slick Submissions**

_Slick submissions fighters are all about getting the fight to the ground, and they don't care if they have to pull guard to do it. Most slick submission fighters are just as comfortable on their backs as they are in top position, and they are certainly just as dangerous._

Casey caught her with his left arm and removed the dart with his right. He tossed the dart aside and reached for his pistol.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Smythe said coming to a stop about 15 feet away from him. "This one isn't a tranq gun."

There wasn't much light in the alley but Casey could see enough to know Smythe was telling the truth. Casey froze with his hand on the snap oh his holster.

"See, I care about _her_," Smythe said, nodding his head toward Joelle. "You? Not so much."

Casey measured up Smythe as he approached. He was nearly Casey's height but lean, at least 50 pounds lighter. His face was angular, almost gaunt. His dark hair was speckled with gray and cut short. His eyes were dark. He looked older and more worn than the photos in his file that Casey had seen.

Smythe was dressed mostly in black – combat boots, cargo pants, and t-shirt with a khaki colored jacket. There was a distinctive bulge under his right armpit which Casey assumed was the tranq gun.

Smythe stopped a few feet from him.

"You'd be more convincing if you actually shot our team today. You only tranqed them," Casey said.

"True, but none of them were sleeping in her bed," Smythe countered.

"If you care for her, you won't kill me," Casey said.

"If I believed you two were really together, that might make sense."

"Believe it," Casey growled.

Smythe took a step closer and gave Casey a hard look. "I suppose it's possible. You do resemble the love of her life…" Smythe made a motion over his body with one hand like Vanna White unveiling a puzzle. "But I'm not believing it until I hear it from her. In the mean time, I could just put a bullet in your thigh and leave you here to call in for a rescue. Or, you can cooperate and come along for the ride. It should be fun… you might even learn something, Casey."

So Smythe knew who he was. Casey spun the options in his mind, trying to figure out Smythe's motivation. If he just wanted to get Jo and Angel, he would have shot him and left him without the conversation.

Casey removed his right hand from his jacket and held it up as a sign of surrender.

"Smart man," Smythe said with a smile, moving closer. Smythe reached into Casey's jacket and quickly removed the pistol from the holster. As Smythe stepped back out of melee range, he dropped the clip from the Sig and then tucked the gun into the back of his pants.

Casey pulled Joelle fully into his arms.

"I'm parked right over here," Smythe said motioning toward the end of the alley.

Casey walked in the direction Smythe indicated. Smythe followed, pointing the gun at Casey's back. "So what's your plan here?" Casey asked.

Smythe gave a short laugh. "Plan? I'm not really the planning type, Casey."

Casey grunted. "Good point. Because if you were, you would have realized you were endangering Joelle and Angel and never have started this stupid thing!"

There was a hard edge to his voice when he responded. "Angel?" he growled. "I never told anybody about Evangeline. There are no records. I've always been careful…! I don't know how they found out about her."

They cleared the corner of a building and walked into a small parking lot. There were three vehicles. Smythe pressed the weapon into Casey's back and pushed him in the direction of a beat up cargo van.

"The important thing now is what are you going to do about it?" Casey growled. "How are you going to keep Angel safe?"

"That's none of your concern," Smythe bit off.

"Yes, it is," Casey growled.

They reached the van and Casey stopped. Smythe slid around him and opened the sliding door. Smythe gave a quick glance around the small lot and then back at Casey. "Put her down," he said motioning with the pistol.

Casey hesitated, absolutely hating taking orders from the man. He glanced into the van. Two seats in front, the rest wide open and without windows. He leaned into the vehicle and gently laid Jo on the floor.

As soon as Casey had straightened, Smythe waved the gun at him. "Take off your clothes."

Casey narrowed his eyes at Smythe. "What?"

"C'mon, Casey… I know you've got GPS on you somewhere. I don't want your team to crash our party." Casey clenched his teeth. After a few moments of waiting, Smythe said, "You want to come with us, then ditch the clothes."

Casey considered his options and then unbuckled his watch. "Tracker is in here," he said holding the watch out to Smythe.

"Thanks," Smythe said, taking the watch. He knelt down and carefully set it on the pavement. "Now your clothes…" Smythe said coming back to his feet.

"I just gave you the only tech I've got."

Smythe shook his head. "I can't possibly trust you, Casey. Now get naked."

OxOxOxOxO

Casey hadn't realized it was such a cool night until he was standing in the parking lot in only his boxers. He fought off the urge to shiver.

Smythe eyed the bandages on Casey's shoulder. "Got a new one for your collection, eh?"

Casey glared at him with as much dignity as he could muster. "Yeah, trying to protect your daughter from the bad guys you brought to her door."

Smythe stared at him for a few moments, and then shrugged, "Whatever." He nodded toward Joelle. "You want to do the honors or should I?"

"Leave her be," Casey growled. "She's got no tech."

"Okay," Smythe said with a nod. "I'll trust you." He stared at Casey for a few moments and then started laughing. He reached into the van and pulled a pair of handcuffs from the passenger seat and fastened them around Casey's wrists.

"Get in the van, cupcake." Smythe bumped his shoulder into Casey's chest. Casey stumbled sideways until his calves hit the van and he fell onto his side next to Jo.

Considering the logistics and his lack of clothing, Casey moved carefully, coming into a sitting position with his back against the side of the van. He was facing Smythe with Joelle sprawled between them. The van was uncomfortably cold against his bare back.

Smythe holstered his pistol, took Joelle's foot and undid the sandal strap. He made a noise of appreciation low in his throat. "Oh, Josie, baby, these shoes remind me of Santorini…" He slipped the sandal off and dropped it onto the pavement next to Casey's favorite suit. Smythe ran one hand up her calf while bringing her foot towards his face.

"Don't!" Casey growled through gritted teeth.

Smythe smiled at him and then pressed his lips to the arch of her foot. "You ever do this to her?" Smythe purred. "I can tell by the look on your face that you never have. Take my word for it, it drives her crazy."

Smythe kissed her foot a few more times and Casey fought the urge to turn away. Smythe laughed again and repeated the process with the other sandal.

When Smythe had satisfied his foot fetish, he rolled Jo on her side and unzipped her dress. He glanced up at Casey. "So tell me, Colonel, what exactly are your intentions concerning my wife?"

Casey gritted his teeth. "She's not your wife."

"She should be," Smythe said frowning at Jo's back. "I was sorta hoping she was going braless, weren't you?" he snickered. He pulled Jo's dress down, but kept his eyes on Casey. "I asked her to marry me, you know."

"Yeah? Was that before or after you cheated on her?"

Smythe shook his head, "Sure bring that up… I only cheated on her because I was so hurt that she rejected my proposal."

Casey gave a derisive laugh, "Nice, blame her for your lack of morals."

"I was devastated," Smythe said his eyes turned down, looking at Jo's nearly naked body. He released her, letting her settle gently on her back. He let the dress fall on the pavement and then gently pulled the clip from her hair and dropped it on the pile. "But we're not talking about me," he put his eyes on Casey. "We're talking about you. What is it you're hoping to get from her?"

Casey remained silent.

"Come on, Casey! This is the fun part!" Smythe said leaning over and slapping Casey's foot. Casey still said nothing. Smythe sighed. "I'm just trying to look out for you, man. Cuz if you want something serious from her, you should just give up now."

"Let me guess… she's still in love with you," Casey snarled.

Smythe smirked. "Interesting you should go that way. I was going to say that I screwed our girl up good. She's not ever going to let herself be in a position like that again. And she's proved that with the two jokers she's dated since me."

"I'm pretty sure she's recovered from your infidelity."

"Oh, I'm not talking about that…" Smythe stared at him for a few long moments. "Do you know how Josie and I met?"

Casey replied with a silent glare.

Smythe gave a short laugh. "So, the NSA sends you in to turn Josie against me and they don't even give you the whole story? Wow, that's really weird, don't you think?" After a few more moments, he added, "Oh wait. You're the perfect soldier, right? Take orders no matter how absurd. Don't ask questions. Don't think for yourself…"

The disdain in Smythe's voice made Casey consider taking a swing at him. "So why don't you tell me about it?" Casey growled.

Smythe hesitated for a moment, "Naw… you need to hear her side of it, not mine. I mean especially if what you two have going on is real."

Casey was getting tired of hearing that word.

After a thoughtful pause, Smythe said, "Tell me something: did she start out hating you?"

Casey thought back on all the times she told him just that, and smiled just a little. "With a passion," he replied.

Smythe stared at him for a few moments. "Well, good for you, cupcake. You just might have a chance with her after all."

In one smooth motion, Smythe pulled a gun from under his right arm, pointed it at him, and pulled the trigger. Casey felt the sting of the tranq dart as it bit into his neck.

Casey gritted his teeth and pulled the dart free. "You're wasting your time, Smythe." He flicked the dart in Smythe's direction.

Smythe shrugged and tucked the gun back under his coat. "It was mixed for Josie, so, it probably won't knock you out, but it will keep you from being too much trouble."

Casey gave a low snarl as he felt the drug start to relax his muscles. "Don't bet on that."


	10. Chapter 10 Ground & Pound

**Chapter Ten – Ground & Pound**

_Ground and pound consists of taking a fighter to the ground, placing them in an inferior position and striking them until they are knocked out, tap out, can be submitted, or the match is stopped._

It was a struggle to try and keep track of their direction and the time they spent in transit. The drugs from the tranq dart made his head foggy and whenever his eyes fell on Jo's body, covered only by a lacy, silver bra and matching underwear, Casey lost count. To make matters worse, Smythe's question about Jo hating him was very distracting.

Eventually Casey gave up all thoughts and just rested his eyes on Jo.

Eventually Smythe parked the van and got out. He opened the sliding door, and waved Casey out with the pistol. Casey was surprised at how difficult it was to move. When he set his bare feet down on the gravel parking lot, he lurched forward and almost fell on his face. That put a damper on his thoughts of turning the tables on Smythe any time soon.

As Smythe prodded him toward a nondescript warehouse, Casey looked around trying to find anything he recognized. But there was nothing. Just another abandoned waterfront warehouse district. No other vehicles in sight. Not even any distinctive sounds outside of the water slapping against the pier.

They paused at the door as Smythe entered a code in a makeshift security lock. "Thought you weren't a planner," Casey snarked.

"Did it just for you, big guy," Smythe said with a smug smile and opened the door.

They wove through some broken down crates to a far corner where three metal chairs were set up under a dim overhead light. "Take a seat, Casey," Smythe said, putting the gun in his lower back and pushing him toward a chair.

Casey's knees buckled halfway to the chair and he fell down, taking the chair with him. Smythe laughed. "Get up, cupcake."

Casey struggled to get to his knees and turned the chair upright. Two sets of handcuffs clanged against the metal supports under the seat. Casey pulled himself into the chair.

"Here," Smythe said throwing something at him. Casey's reaction time was slow and it took all his concentration to catch the item. Handcuff keys. "Unlock and then relock one on the chair."

Casey gritted his teeth. "I didn't realize you were so into playing games, Smythe."

Smythe gave him another smug smile. "Maybe you should have been asking Josie more about me rather than trying to figure out how to get in her bed."

Casey lifted his lip in snarl, but after a few moments of angry staring, he unlocked the cuffs and relocked them so his left wrist was attached to the chair support.

"Good man," Smythe said, holstering the weapon and walking towards him. Smythe kept a wary eye on him as he grabbed Casey's right wrist and attached it to the chair with a pair of cuffs that was already there.

Smythe stood and headed back through the maze of crates. "Don't go anywhere, Casey."

Casey took the time alone to berate himself. He **should** have asked more questions about Smythe. He **shouldn't have** gotten involved with Jo. He **should** have taken Smythe down when he had a chance and they would be back at his place watching over Angel right now.

Casey heard the door slam shut and after a few moments Smythe came into view carrying Jo over his shoulder. He caught Casey's eye. "She's got a great ass, right?" he said with a lascivious smile as he slapped her butt. Jo didn't stir.

Smythe eased her down in the chair and she nearly slid off. Her eyes jerked open and then abruptly closed again; her head dropped backwards until it hit the back of the chair. Two sets of handcuffs were attached that chair as well and Smythe locked them around her wrists.

He stared at her for a moment and then reached down to pat her cheek. "Josie… time to wake up..." He paused for a moment and then gave her a good slap. She didn't move.

Casey watched as Smythe retrieved a bucket from the corner. Smythe looked at him. "Always be prepared," he said with a nod.

"If that's what I think it is, I wouldn't…"

Smythe didn't wait for him to finish. He tossed the bucket of water at Jo. She woke up sputtering and cursing weakly. She pulled at the cuffs as she looked around the room and then down at herself. Her eyes glazed over him and then went to Smythe.

"Peter, you prick!" She brought her leg up between his, but she was moving slowly and Smythe merely stepped aside and knocked her leg down with the bucket.

Smythe gave a low, sexual growl. "You know I love it when you fight me, baby."

Jo threw a sloppy kick at his knee. He dropped the bucket and grabbed her ankle. "Just like old times."

Smythe leaned down over her, put his free hand behind her head and held her still while he kissed her. She struggled uselessly under his attention.

Casey's stomach churned violently. "Let her go!" he yelled.

Smythe pulled away and looked at Jo. "Aw, isn't that sweet? He's trying to save you." Smythe stepped away from her, out of the range of her kick, and locked his eyes on Casey. Casey wasn't sure if it was the drugs or something Smythe had done, but Smythe looked totally different. Older and more severe.

Smythe smiled at him in a way that made Casey's skin crawl, then he turned his eyes back to Jo. "Why are you wasting your time with this guy, Josie? You knew I would come for you."

A look of confusion spread over her face, and she blinked her eyes several times. "What is wrong with you?" she asked.

"What's wrong with me?" he roared, startling Jo and making her pull back in her chair. "What's wrong with you? What were you thinking taking up with this guy?"

"W-what?" Jo spoke softly. Her body was starting to tremble and Casey didn't know if it was from the drugs, being cold, or fear.

Smythe started pacing in front of her. "Here I am working for our future, just one big job payout away from our happily ever after and you let this guy into your bed! With our daughter in the next room!" Smythe lunged at her and wrapped his hands around her arms. "What kind of mother are you?"

Jo's trembling increased, but her voice was stronger this time. "You have totally lost it, Peter."

Smythe's entire body went rigid. "You see what you've done to me, Josie? For years I've watched silently while you parade men in and out of your bedroom… while you flirt with boys half your age in that class you teach…! And I'm telling you it ends now!"

Smythe jerked into a standing position and pulled the pistol from under his left arm and pointed it at Casey.

Casey couldn't have been more surprised if it was Chuck that turned on him. How did this guy go from swapping stories about Joelle in the van to intent to kill? Smythe stared at him with cold, dark eyes, and a sneer on his lips.

"Stop, Peter!" Jo yelled, pulling Smythe's eyes back to her.

"Why, Josie?" Smythe took a step closer to Casey. "Do you love him?"

"I hardly know him," she replied.

If Casey hadn't been so focused on the pistol pointed at him, her response might have bothered him.

"Then you won't miss him when he's gone," Smythe said, putting his eyes back on Casey, and centering the gun over his heart. Casey grabbed the chair with his cuffed hands and prepared to rush him.

"If you hurt him, I will never willingly go with you," Jo said.

Smythe turned his eyes back to her. "And if I don't kill him?"

Casey came to his feet, wobbled a little, and then launched himself at Smythe. He missed Smythe only because of the drugs. Smythe stepped to the side, planted his boot in Casey's face and pushed him sideways. Casey landed on the cement on his left side, and felt a fuzzy pain-like sensation over his torso.

Smythe came down on one knee beside him and put the pistol near his temple. "That was entirely unnecessary, cupcake."

"Don't hurt him," Jo said.

Smythe glanced over his shoulder at her, and growled loudly, "Answer my question, Josie!"

"If you let him go, I'll do whatever you want."

"Like hell!" Casey protested.

Smythe came to his feet. "What I want is for you and Evangeline to come live with me," he said.

"Don't do it, Joelle… don't agree to anything…!" Casey barked.

She cut Casey off with a firm, "Okay, Peter."

Smythe started walking toward her. "I want you to marry me, Josie."

Casey clenched his jaw to keep from yelling.

She hesitated, keeping her eyes on Smythe. "Okay."

It felt like every organ in Casey's body turned to stone.

"I want to legally adopt Evangaline," Smythe continued. Smythe stopped in front of her, making her look up at him.

"Of course," Jo said softly.

Smythe holstered the weapon and then slowly came to one knee in front of her. "I want you to kiss me, Josie." Casey saw her shivering in earnest now. "Seal the deal."

Casey never saw or heard her agree, but this time when Smythe kissed her, she didn't struggle. Smythe drew the kiss out, slowly moving his hands over her body. Watching it was some of the most painful torture Casey had endured. His stomach bucked and Casey swallowed against the bile rising in his throat.

The torture was interrupted by music.

_He never stopped to worry what the next day would bring  
Because the girls would sing:  
Rock me Amadeus…_

Smythe pulled away from Joelle, but kept his hand on her face as he pulled the phone from his pocket and answered it. Casey stared intently at her, but she wouldn't look at him. Smythe was speaking in some kind of Chinese dialect in short sentences, absent-mindedly caressing Jo's face with his hand.

"Joelle!" Casey spoke in a loud whisper. Finally she looked at him, shivering, her eyes large and looking totally lost. "Don't give in to this guy!"

She looked at him for a long moment and then shook her head slightly. Smythe pulled her head up so she was looking at him.

Smythe ended the call. "It's almost over now, Josie," Smythe said, looking down at her. "This time tomorrow, you, me, and Evangeline will be on our way to Rio."

"Rio," Joelle repeated, her voice not quite connected to her body.

Smythe leaned over and kissed her again and Casey's stomach cramped up again. "But now I have to go make some final arrangements. You'll wait here for me, right?"

"No!" she exclaimed, looking up at him with wide eyes, "Take me with you!"

Casey felt a sharp pain in his torso and wasn't sure if he was getting stabbed in the back or in the heart.

"Oh, baby, it's too dangerous," he said and gave her a quick kiss. "You stay here and I promise I'll come back for you when the deal is done." He kissed her one last time, then took a few moments to whisper something in her ear. He stood up, stared at her for a long moment , smiled and gave her a small nod. At that moment he looked more like the guy from the van.

Smythe turned away and headed toward the maze of crates. Smythe addressed him without looking at him, "Casey, if you could just curl up and die before I get back that would save me some time."

xOxOxOx

Casey stared at Jo as she shivered in her chair. She lowered her head, brought her legs up and did her best to curl up into a ball.

Casey ran the events and conversations through his mind. "That was all just one big game, wasn't it?" he said finally.

"I'm not sure what that was," she said without looking up. "That was not the Peter I knew." Her voice sounded different, but that could be because she was shivering.

"You're not seriously going with him," Casey said.

She lifted her head and frowned at him. "If you believe that, you're as crazy as he is."

"Then why beg to go with him?" Casey asked, his suspicion manifesting in his voice.

She gave him a hard stare and then shook her head a little. "So he drugged you too?" she asked. "Because you're not thinking this through, Colonel."

Casey waited for a moment, but she remained silent. "Talk me through it then."

She exhaled sharply. "I need to keep him away from Angel. It would be much easier to do that if I'm not cuffed to this chair." She paused. "Also I'm less likely to die from hypothermia if I could get into some dry clothes. And, oh yeah," she started raising her voice, "it looks like he's going to deliver whatever it is he stole, and I thought we were trying to stop that!"

Casey felt heat over his face. "So that was all an act?"

She exhaled angrily. "It doesn't matter what I do, you're never going to trust me, are you, John?"

He was quiet for a moment, thinking about it. The drugs were starting to wear off and he could feel the left side of his body getting chilled from the concrete floor. He watched the way Jo's shivering was becoming more violent and took note that her skin was becoming more pale.

"You weren't exaggerating about the hypothermia…"

"It's not exactly sunny California in here right now," she replied.

"SITREP?" he asked.

She smiled slightly at the use of the military abbreviation for situational report. "60 – 75 minutes before I start acting like Daffy Duck," she said with a smirk. He smiled. "Options?" she asked.

"We could lay here and wait for your ex-whack job to return," Casey said.

She shook her head. "Not viable. I don't think Peter is going to make it out of that meet alive. And even if he did, we might both die from hypothermia before he gets back here." After a few moments she said, "We could sit here and hope that your team finds us."

He shook his head. "Not viable. Smythe left all our stuff in a parking lot. Anybody could have picked it up. The team has probably gone looking for us and may have found my watch by now, but if it's away from the area where Smythe grabbed us it's going to make it difficult for them to track us."

Jo nodded. "And Peter isn't your average criminal. He probably avoided every camera in the county."

They were quiet for a moment. Casey was the one to break it. "So, it's up to us then."

She nodded. "We are the best option."

xOxOxOx

**Author's request for feedback**: Okay, my few but faithful readers… are you interested in Peter's comment about how he met Joelle? Would you like me to take time to explore that or would you rather I just keep the story moving forward? Leave me a comment and I'll go with the majority. Thanks for your support!


	11. Chapter 11 Can Opener

**Chapter Eleven - Can Opener**

_Can-opener: virtually the only submission that can be applied in your opponent's guard, it entails putting both of your hands behind his neck and pulling his head towards you. Usually applied to open a closed guard, it can lead to a submission against an injured, tired, or inexperienced fighter._

Casey heard the heavy bass music coming up behind him and knew it wouldn't be good. He glanced at the car as it slowed down to match his speed. It was a blue Mazda 3, decked out for street racing with two Caucasian wanna-be gangsters inside.

"Whoa, dude, what happened to you?" the passenger asked.

Casey wasn't surprised this was the type of help they got. The warehouse district was virtually abandoned, it was the darkest part of the night, and he was walking down the street in nothing but his boxers, carrying a nearly unconscious woman, both of them still wearing the remainder of the handcuffs around each wrist.

He made eye contact with the thug, but kept walking. "A series of bad decisions," he growled. The thug laughed and elbowed the driver. "I'd appreciate it if you could call 9-1-1."

"Naw, man, naw," the passenger said. "We can do better than that. We'll take you to the hospital ourselves."

The car stopped and the passenger jumped out, hiked up his jeans and then folded the bucket seat against the dashboard. Casey glared at the young man as he motioned to the tiny back seat.

"Go ahead, man…." he said. Casey just stared at him. "Honestly, homme, you don't want to keep walking in this area dressed like that. The next people that stop won't be as nice as us."

Casey growled low in his throat. He felt Jo's hand flutter against his chest. "We can take them," she whispered.

Casey was reluctant still, but finally leaned into the car and set Jo on the seat. As he pulled his arms back, he sensed the kid's movement and felt the cold metal of a gun barrel pushed into his ribs.

"Turns out there's not enough room for you, dude," the kid laughed as Casey straightened up.

"Yeah, man, four's a crowd!" the driver laughed.

Casey kept his eyes on Jo and the moment she reached out for the driver he grabbed the passenger's gun hand and pushed it away from his body. A shot rang out and Casey heard brick shattering several yards away. Casey grabbed the kid's curly hair with his left hand and slammed his head on the roof of the car.

The kid made a noise as Casey ripped the gun free. Casey spun the gun in his hand and brought the handle across the kid's temple. The kid slumped toward the ground and Casey accelerated his descent with his bare foot.

He ducked his head into the car just in time to see the driver fire the gun out the windshield. Cracks made the glass into a large spider web.

Jo had her left arm around the driver's neck and was using the head rest as leverage to apply pressure on the carotid artery. She struggled to control the kid's shooting arm with her right hand. Casey put the gun against the kid's temple. The kid stopped struggling immediately.

"Fun time is over, dip-shit," Casey said, grabbing the gun away from him.

The kid made a gurgling sound as Jo applied more pressure against his neck. Within a few seconds, the kid went unconscious.

Jo released the hold and slumped back into the seat. Casey put the safety on each gun and set them in the passenger seat. He reached down and pulled the curly-haired kid up on to the curb and then closed the car door. He relieved the kid of his shiny green jacket and circled the car. He opened the driver's door and pulled the other kid out into the street. He handed the green jacket to Jo and then stripped the driver of his leather coat.

Casey did a quick scan of the area and was thankful that the street was still deserted as far as he could tell. He handed the leather coat back to Jo and got into the driver's seat.

Jo tried to push the leather coat back at him. "You take it."

"You need it more," he said, examining the controls for the heat.

He could hear her sigh. "You're shivering, John."

He took a moment. He hadn't noticed he was shivering. He looked at her through the rearview mirror. "I'm fine." She shook her head weakly, so he added, "I couldn't fit in that coat if I wanted to."

She held his eyes for a moment and then pulled the jacket over her torso. He turned the heat on full power and rolled up the passenger side window then put the car in gear.

It took him ten minutes of random turns to finally get to a street he recognized and then only because there was no traffic, another 15 minutes to get to his place.

He walked through the small contingent of agents in his living room, stopping only long enough to give an essential debrief and to request a doctor for Jo. He carried her upstairs. He tried to go straight to his bedroom, but she mumbled Angel's name and he understood.

He carried her into the guest bedroom, let her see that Angel was still sleeping soundly, and then moved on to his room. He pulled the covers back, laid her down, covered her up, and went to the hallway closet to get another blanket.

He quickly added another blanket to his bed and then stood there and watched her shiver for a few moments.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "You know what you have to do, Marine," she said, her voice shaking in rhythm with her shivering.

He retrieved a dry pair of boxers from his dresser and stepped into the bathroom for a quick change. Then he searched her suitcase – the suitcase that Walker had packed - for some sensible pajamas. There were none. He managed to find one pair of cotton underwear and then went to his closet and pulled a plain gray t-shirt from a hanger.

He returned to the bed, pulled back the covers and ran his eyes quickly over her body. "I should be getting hazard pay for this…"

"If it's too much for you to handle, you can just fetch me one of the rookies from downstairs," she said, sounding suddenly tired.

He gave her a small smile and then joined her, bringing the clothes with him. He settled on to his left side, facing her. She pressed her body against him and if the temperature of her skin hadn't shocked him slightly, he would have been aroused.

After a few moments, she rolled on to her back and wriggled her body as she pulled off her damp underwear. He focused his eyes on her face and tried not to picture the rest of her body, but when her hip caressed his, his body reacted in the typical man way.

She brought the undergarment out from under the covers and tossed it on the floor. When she reached toward him, he put the underwear in her hand. There was more wriggling and caressing of skin and Casey had to shift his top leg so his state was less obvious.

She rolled on to her right side so she was facing him, and undid her bra with one hand. He felt the release against his chest and the throbbing in his boxers increased. She threw the bra in the same direction that the underwear had gone.

She looked into his eyes for a moment and then moved in closer, pressing the whole length of her body against him. He dug his fingers into the t-shirt still in his right hand and let out a quiet groan.

"Have you no mercy, woman?" he breathed against her hair.

She spread her palms over his chest and tucked her head into his shoulder. "I put on the underwear, didn't I?" she whispered into his chest.

"Unh," he replied, and pressed the crumpled up t-shirt against her abdomen. "T-shirt… please."

She shook her head, "Not yet."

He made a disgruntled sound in response, but knew she was right. In an attempt to distract himself, he replayed the events of the day in his head. Again. For the 19th time.

He was coming to the conclusion that it was probably the worst day of his life. And Colonel John Casey had been in some shit in his time. But the ups and down of this particular 24 hours pushed him to his absolute limit. The picnic in the park was something that he hadn't experienced since his childhood and evoked feelings that he never felt before. But when he looked down and saw Joelle and Angel gone, he felt something else he'd never felt before – absolute, uncontrollable fear.

The wonderment of the way he and Joelle had connected in the aftermath was shattered by her rejection of him just a few hours later. The total frustration of the show of public affection at the club and in the alley caused him more pain and confusion. Then he had to allow Smythe to take them and swallow huge amounts of unwanted emotions as he watched Smythe try to reclaim Joelle.

And now, having her so close and not being able to do anything about it was maddening. He wanted to kiss her. Wanted to move his hands over her body, but his mind was filled with doubts. Doubts about her feelings for him as well as her feeling for Smythe. Questions about her past with Smythe as well as her current motives. He wanted to trust her. He really did. But he couldn't.

There was a knock on the door. It was Devon with his medical kit, followed closely by Chuck and Walker.

Chuck jerked to a stop when he saw them in bed. "Whoa, whoa!" Chuck looked at Walker and then Devon. "Am I the only one who is _uncomfortable_?"

Casey replied with his signature snarl. He helped Joelle into the t-shirt while they were still under the covers and then Devon started examining her and quietly asking questions.

Casey got out of bed, walked to his dresser, and pulled on a pair of jeans. He grabbed a black t-shirt from the closet and pulled it on then finally turned to face Walker.

"What happened?" she asked.

It was the first in a long series of questions and by the time Walker had finished interrogating him, Devon was done examining Joelle. "You're going to be fine," he said. "I would recommend a trip to the hospital to bring your body temp back to normal more quickly…"

Joelle shook her head. "No hospital."

Devon exhaled. "Okay, then, John…" Devon looked at him, "it would be best if… "Devon motioned toward the bed.

Casey nodded and headed back toward the bed. He got back under the covers and she curled up into his arms too easily.

As soon as Devon was clear of the room, Walked asked, "So what do we know for sure?"

"Only that he's making the exchange within the next 12 hours," Casey replied.

"And that he thinks it's a suicide mission," Joelle added.

Casey tried to make eye contact with her, but she kept her face buried in his chest. "Rio?" he asked.

She nodded. "We ran a really bad op in Rio once."

Chuck looked back and forth between them. "Wait… if he thinks it's a suicide mission, why all the drama and stalker talk?"

Joelle was quiet for a long moment. "He's either developed some kind of serious psychosis or he's asking for our help."

"I vote for psychosis," Casey said.

She gave a weary shrug. "If he's not crazy, then he's got a plan and we'll know about it when he wants us to. If he **is** crazy, then he's probably not making it out of the meet alive."

"But we have to get the device back," Sarah said.

"And we have to neutralize Peter," Joelle said softly, sounding like she was drifting off. "I can't let him endanger us like this ever again."

xOxOxOx

Casey stayed with her for several hours, until her body temperature came close to normal and she fell asleep. He slipped out of bed and quietly left the bedroom. He found Chuck at the kitchen table. Walker was conversing with two CIA officers in the living room over a laptop.

"Morning," Chuck said, pouring a cup of coffee and holding it out to him.

Casey took it and appreciated the warmth in a new way. "Anything new?" he asked.

"Nope," Chuck replied. "How is Joelle?"

"Seems back to normal, I guess…" Casey paused, not sure how to ask his question, not sure if he even should.

"So…" There was an awkward silence and Chuck seemed obliged to fill it. "She seems nice…"

Casey locked his eyes on Chuck's. "Is there anything you want to tell me about her?"

Chuck furrowed his brow, giving him a confused look. "Uh, no… I don't think so."

"You ever flashed on anything related to her and not told me?"

Chuck quickly shook his head, "No."

"Do you know how she and Smythe met?"

Chuck was quiet for a moment then answered, "In her file it said they worked together…"

"I know what it said in her file," Casey snapped, "but that doesn't really explain how they met…"

"Uhm…" Chuck's eyes focused on a spot over Casey's left shoulder.

"You got questions about my past," Jo's voice came from behind him, "why don't you just ask **me**?"


	12. Chapter 12 Tap Out

**Chapter Twelve – Tap Out**

_Tap Out – a method in which a fighter submits to his opponent by tapping his opponent, himself, or the mat. Verbal tap outs are also allowed._

**Authors note:** Suggested soundtrack for this chapter: _Haunted_, _Taking Over Me_ both by Evanescence.

She woke up entirely against her will. She much preferred the peaceful darkness to unending pain of consciousness. But the burning fire in her shoulders yanked her into consciousness. She screamed, but there was little substance to it. Her throat was ruined from several days of screaming. At least it had seemed like days to her.

She was hanging from her wrists, and couldn't feel the ground with her bare feet. She couldn't see anything. That wasn't new – they hadn't removed the hood from her face since they had captured her. Her entire body was engulfed in pain. He had broken her left leg and several ribs. He had drugged her with truth serums, amphetamines, barbiturates, and designer drugs intended to enhance her pain. He had cut her with knives and whips, burned her with metal, and beat her with clubs. Every time she went unconscious he woke her up with drugs or drowning or some new form of torture.

The smell of her own sweat, blood, and body fluids was enough to make her throw up. But since she had nothing in her stomach, all she could do was wretch weakly.

She felt someone move near her and knew it was him. "I know what you are thinking," he said softly, his voice heavily accented by Farsi. "You are wondering why you are not dead yet."

Her instinct was to kick him with her good leg, but she knew from experience she would miss. He moved too quickly and quietly and each time she attempted something like that he made her regret it.

When he spoke again, his voice came from over her right shoulder. "You are not dead yet because I am very good at this. We can go on like this for several weeks. Or you can tell me what I want to know, and I can end your pain now."

"Go to hell," she replied with all the fire she could muster.

"We are already there, I think. And it's going to get worse very soon…"

Statements like that were usually followed by blinding pain. She tensed her muscles waiting for it. She heard him move away from her and then heard whispering several feet away. She breathed long and slow as she listened to the voices escalating, speaking Farsi a language that she didn't understand.

After a minute of intense conversation, he addressed her again, this time from farther away. "Why do you protect a country that has abandoned you?" he asked. She did not respond in any manner. "You have been here for almost three days and we have made no secret of the fact that we have you. They haven't even attempted to save you. They haven't even bothered to bring in the diplomats."

It wasn't really a surprise, but the words cut to her stomach nonetheless.

"They do not care about you… none of them! Not your country, not your beloved Marine Corps, and apparently not even your comrades in arms!"

There would be no rescue. She knew that from the moment she was captured, but she tried not to think about. She tried to stay positive and alert for opportunities of escape. But with each hour she was becoming weaker.

She was suddenly overwhelmed, physically and emotionally. She hung her head and if she'd had any fluids in her body she would have cried.

He moved closer. "A woman like you… surely you are loved by a man… wouldn't you like to return to him?"

Her body shook with unproductive sobbing but not because he was right.

"If you tell me what I want to know, and if it proves that you are telling me the truth, I will release you…"

She lifted her head and turned toward the sound of his voice. "Just kill me now!"

There was a moment of silence, the sound of purposeful movement, and then she felt his arms around her neck and his hand at the back of her head. She embraced the darkness that fell over her.

xOxOxOx

She was being pulled from unconsciousness by the feeling of hands on her body. She was devastated that she was still alive. Pain exploded in her broken left leg. She screamed as loud as she could and she heard laughing. Two men.

She was lying on her back on a hard surface, her bound wrists held over her head. The bag was jerked from her head and she closed her eyes tightly in reaction. She sensed little light in the room and she opened her eyes slowly.

She was on a table, one man standing over her, giving her a wolfish smile and speaking to her in Farsi. Another man held her wrists over her head.

Her only surprise was that it took them this long to get to this. If she hadn't been in so much pain, she might have been scared.

She listened as the men spoke and quickly ruled either one of them as her torturer. The wolf presented a knife and put it to her face. Then he slowly moved it down toward her chest. He grabbed a fist full of her t-shirt, pulled it tight, and jabbed the knife into the material and ripped up towards her chin.

She moved her right leg slightly and felt a moment of joy realizing it was not restrained. Adrenaline flooded her tired body, and she brought her right leg up as quickly as she could and slammed her foot into the side of the wolf's head. As he fell away from her, she wrapped her hands around the other man's forearms and pulled him towards her chest as she brought her knee up. She made contact with the man's head and heard a wonderful cracking noise.

She rolled off the right side of the table and did her best to cushion the impact on her left leg. She landed on her stomach on a tile floor, and the pain from her leg rocketed her to near unconsciousness. As she struggled against the impending darkness, she heard the wolf yelling and moving around the table. She felt his hand in her hair, jerking her head up, and she felt the bite of the knife at her throat.

Her only regret was that she didn't get a chance to kill her torturer.

A muffled shot sounded, and she was confused for a moment. The wolf's hands relaxed and her head jerked forward. She didn't feel the knife, but was certain that it must have cut into her throat.

There was a sudden weight on her torso and she heard a man's voice, clearly American, "Oh shit! Oh shit!"

_That must be the sound of me dying…_

xOxOxOx

It was difficult for Casey to listen to her story. She didn't give graphic details, but he'd been through enough similar situations to picture it clearly. He had noticed the faded, six-inch scar on her neck the first day he met her. It saddened him to know that it wasn't a combat wound but the result of brutal torture.

She fell silent for a good long minute, clearly lost in memories. They had moved to his bedroom for privacy's sake, and she was standing at the window, staring into the mid-morning sun.

Finally she turned and looked at him, "My next memory is waking up at Camp Leatherneck hospital… he was asleep in a chair at my bedside."

"Smythe?"

She nodded. "He was the one that rescued me."

"All by himself?" Casey asked skeptically.

She nodded again. "He was making his own escape and he heard me scream…" she let her sentence trail off, and turned somber. She looked back out the window.

He gave her a few moments and then said, "So, what? You fall in love with the knight in shining armor?"

"Wasn't much of a knight," she said. "He disappeared a couple of days later."

"Really?" Casey was trying to piece together how exactly Smythe had screwed her up, and his disappearance seemed like too small of a thing. Obviously they had found each other later.

She turned away from the window and started walking toward him. "I asked about him and all I got was the 'it's classified' line. I thought I'd never see him again." She gave a small shrug. "Anyway, I was pretty messed up after uh… my time in Afghanistan, and I requested a desk job. I was just riding out the remaining time on my enlistment when I was offered a position in the Pentagon. I was there just a couple of weeks when I got pulled into a meeting that Peter was leading."

Casey raised an eyebrow. Joelle gave a brief nod. "He was CIA. Special Operations Group at that time, but I found out that when he rescued me he was a NOC. He was at the Pentagon that day to pitch a new black ops team made up of the best operatives from the CIA, FBI, NSA, and military. This was shortly after 9-11 and the brass ate it up. It looked good for everybody."

"And he wanted you to join it."

She nodded again. "I said no. Repeatedly. But he was relentless. He said…" She looked into Casey's eyes for a moment, and then shook her head slightly. "He eventually talked me into it. He worked with me 10 hours a day to get me combat ready. I was scared out of my mind. And at the same time…" She let her sentence trail off.

"Excited," Casey filled in for her. "You didn't realize how important field work was for you. You were looking forward to getting back out there."

She gave a reluctant nod. "And it was very good for several years."

"And you fell for him then?" he asked.

"Yes. Of course."

She looked toward the window again. He came to his feet and approached her slowly. "He did something, didn't he?" Casey asked. "Something besides cheating on you…"

She wrapped her arms across her chest and closed her eyes for a moment. When she turned her head back to him and opened her eyes, he saw tears shimmering at the corners.

"We were running an op in Paris, of all places, and Peter made the mistake of speaking Farsi to a freelancer who was working with us. I didn't know until that moment that Peter was fluent in Farsi. He spoke with a perfect native accent."

The scene played out in Casey's mind before she finished her statement. "Oh, Jesus." A bitter, burning sensation filled his throat.

Her voice shook as she continued. "When he was a NOC… he was deep into some nebulous organization that had ties to the Taliban. He was the one… the one that tortured me…!" she let out a small gasp. "He had lied to me all those years!"

She closed her eyes again and lowered her head. She hugged herself tighter. He wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her, but didn't know how. He shoved both hands in his jeans pockets in frustration.

After a long silence, he asked, "What did you do?"

She took a deep breath, lifted her head, and opened her eyes. "I finished the op." Her voice was strong and clear. "And then I beat the shit out of him." After another brief pause, she added, "He didn't fight back. I kicked him into unconsciousness. I broke his nose, his leg, seven ribs, and left him with a concussion and a collapsed lung. It was all I could do not to kill him." She took a deep breath and exhaled through clenched teeth.

"But you stayed with him?" Casey asked.

"Hell no!" she said with an angry frown. "I told him if I ever saw him again I _would_ kill him. I resigned from the team and went back to the Pentagon for the remaining months on that enlistment. Then I retired from the Corps. But I made the mistake of staying in DC."

"And he eventually showed up again," Casey filled in.

She nodded. "And that first night he showed up on my doorstep I would have killed him if he hadn't fought back."

Smythe's question about Joelle hating him was starting to make some sense.

"So how do you go from wanting to kill him to conceiving a child with him?" he asked.

Her change was startling. Every muscle in her body tensed, and her eyes darkened to a steel gray. She hadn't looked like that since the first few days of the op.

She dropped her hands to her sides and made them into fists. The corners of her mouth turned down as she glared at him. "What the hell, John? I open up to you about something like that and you're giving me shit about it?"

In retrospect, the question had been a little pointed. He took a step back and held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

She took an angry step toward him. "You're sorry?"

He stepped back again, "Yes, I'm just wondering…"

"Why don't you just come right out and call me an idiot? That's what you're thinking…" 

"No… it's not…" He searched her face and didn't recognize her. He had known her as a defiant combatant, and as a like-minded collaborator. He'd maybe even seen a glimpse of her as a willing lover. But she was none of those things now. Now she was something dark and angry and dangerous.

Casey stopped his retreat and squared up to her. "Stop it, Joelle. I know what you're trying to do."

"I haven't shared that story with very many people, you insensitive jerk!" she yelled.

He kept his voice calm and even. "You're trying to start a fight with me, I just want to know why."

"What?" she snapped, tilting her head.

"I get it… Smythe built this love-hate thing for you and you don't know how to be in a relationship outside of that …"

Her body relaxed for a moment and her jaw dropped open slightly. He knew at that moment there were two different ways he could go with the conversation. One way left him the option of pursuing something real with her and the other didn't. He thought back over the roller coaster his life had been since he met her and the way she seemed to be able to put on different personalities as easily as pulling on a coat and chose the latter.

"I just need to know… are you starting a fight with me because you **really** want to fight or because you want to f…?"

Her punch was so fast that it landed before he could get the whole word out of his mouth. He never saw it coming, only felt dazzling pain when it connected under his jaw. The impact caused his teeth to cut into his tongue, and blood started seeping into his mouth.

He didn't retaliate because he knew he deserved it. It was a cruel thing to do and he felt an unwanted kinship with Smythe at that moment. He swallowed some blood and took an unsteady step away from her, watching for more attacks.

"Does that answer your question?" she yelled. She took another angry step towards him. "Oh yeah, you've got it all figured out, _John_!" she spoke his name like a curse. "You think you can get to me by acting like Peter, but here's the big difference... Peter honestly loved me! That's why he kept showing up at my door. That's why he kept taking the punches! But you…!" She took another step forward. "You've been in this for yourself the whole time. You don't care about me or Angel!"

This time he saw her punch coming and put up an open palm to block it. He wrapped his fingers around her fist and held it in place.

"I am NOT Smythe," he growled, not sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

"Damn right you're not!"

There was a knock on the door. "Casey?" It was Walker.

"Yeah?" Casey snapped, keeping his eyes on Joelle and his hand wrapped around hers.

The door opened and Walker stepped into the room. He could feel her questioning eyes on him, but he wouldn't look away from Joelle.

"It's Smythe," she said. "We've got him on an ATM surveillance camera."


	13. Chapter 13  Cage

**Chapter Thirteen – Cage**

_Cage: a fenced in ring, usually in the shape of an octagon, in which mixed martial artists compete._

**Author's Note:** Good news! The characters have stopped their churning and this story finally has an ending! These last few chapters have been fun to write. Hope you enjoy them too. Soundtrack for this chapter: _By My Side_ by 3 Doors Down

By the time they got downstairs, Smythe had been picked up on two traffic cameras as well. Four caffeine-soaked junior officers were accessing hundreds of cameras in radiuses around the sightings.

"This is it," Joelle said to Walker, "Peter is asking for help."

"Maybe he's just getting sloppy," Walker countered.

Joelle shook her head, "He might be crazy but he's not sloppy."

"Got another one!" a female officer with long, dark hair interjected. She read off the address of the camera. "He's in Long Beach… or at least he was 20 minutes ago."

"Long Beach?" Casey repeated. "That's where he held us… out at the port." He looked toward Joelle but she kept her back to him.

"We've got a surveillance team there," Walker said. She walked to the dining table, grabbed her phone, and tapped a few keys.

A hideous techno beat ringtone sounded and Chuck pulled his phone from his pocket. He looked at the screen, frowned and swiped his finger across it. "Hello…? Uh… uhm…" Chuck stuttered, a look of extreme surprise on his face. "How did you get this number?"

Casey looked at Walker. She shook her head and pressed a button on her phone. He understood. The surveillance team at the warehouse hadn't answered their phone.

Chuck swiveled his head towards Joelle. "Yes, she's here," he said.

Casey moved to Joelle's side and Walker rejoined them in the living room. Chuck tapped his phone and moved toward Joelle. Joelle looked at Chuck and he nodded at the phone as he held it in his open palm.

"Peter?" she asked.

"Josie!" Smythe's voice was scolding. "You were supposed to wait for me!"

"Sorry, I got cold," Joelle said, her voice flat. "Tell me where you are, and I'll come meet you."

"Are you all packed and ready to go?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied, her eyes focused on Chuck's face.

"You're not bringing that dope Casey with you, are you?"

"No, of course not."

"Because I'm not sharing you with him."

"I understand, Peter," she said.

"I can always count on you, can't I, Josie?" Smythe's voice held familiar, warm affection.

"Of course." Joelle's voice held nothing.

"You and Evangaline wait for me at that little ice cream shop that you like to take her to… my meeting should be over by 1:35."

"We'll be there," Joelle said.

After a brief silence, Smythe said, "I love you, Josie."

Joelle moved her eyes from Chuck's face, focusing on a spot on the far wall. "I love you too."

Smythe ended the call and Walker's eyes went to the junior officers. "Were you able to triangulate it?"

A young man wearing the Nerd Herd uniform nodded his head. "Yes, ma'am. It looks like he's near the Pier B rail yard at the port."

"I'm guessing the meet is set at 1:30," Joelle said.

Casey looked at his watch. "That gives us just over an hour to get to Castle, gear up, and get out," he said.

The room erupted into efficient movement. The junior officers packed up the laptops. Chuck and Sarah moved toward the door. Casey moved toward his closet, while pointing at Walker, "Need you to call the general, I'm still without a phone."

Walker nodded and pulled her phone back out. The junior officers set the laptops on any convenient surface and followed after Chuck. Joelle… ! Joelle was headed up the stairs?

"Where do you think you're going?" he snapped at her back.

She stopped mid-way up the stairs and then turned to face him. "I'm going to take care of my daughter," she said, her voice icy. "That's my job."

Casey was shocked into silence. He just assumed she would want to be in on the takedown.

It was Walker that spoke, "I thought you wanted Smythe neutralized."

Joelle moved her eyes to Walker. "I do. But that would be **your** job." She stared at Walker for a moment then said, "You can handle that, right?"

The woman was gifted at using words to inflict pain. Casey saw that the remark had pissed Walker off.

"What the hell is your problem?" Walker snapped.

"You people are my problem," Joelle said circling her finger from Casey to Chuck to Walker. "You pulled me and my daughter into this mess. But I've done my part – I delivered Peter and now I'm free of you, thank God. So now you go do your part, and please, pleeeease don't screw it up. Because I don't have time to keep cleaning up your messes."

Walker's body went rigid and she took a couple of steps toward the stairs. Chuck put a hand on Walker's arm and said, "No time, Sarah."

Walker held Joelle's glare for a moment and then spun on her heel and headed for the door.

XoXoXoX

"I'm serious," Walker was prattling over the comm, "Who does she think she is speaking to me like that?"

Casey definitely made the right decision. _That_ woman was nothing but a distraction. She had him feeling all kinds of unhealthy emotions and second guessing himself. It was dangerous in his line of work. He couldn't trust her. She was stubborn, and more than a little crazy.

"As if she would be able to clean up after us!" Walker said.

"Sarah…" Chuck was trying to calm her down. Unsuccessfully.

And Joelle was wrong. He did care about her. And he cared about Angel. A lot more than he wanted to admit.

"We don't need _anybody_ to clean up after us…!" Walker snapped.

"She's just under stress," Chuck said, ever the peacemaker.

Casey had made the right decision and eventually it would get easier. Once this was over and Smythe was in jail and… _that woman_ was out of his life, things would be back to normal. His biggest aggravation would be Grimes. Casey shook his head. Things were truly messed up when he was looking forward to dealing with the bearded weirdo.

"Stress, ha!" Walker said, "I'll show her some stress…!"

"Save it for later, Walker!" Casey ordered. "Do you have eyes on target?"

"Yes, of course," Walker replied. "It's not like he's doing anything."

Casey looked at his watch. 1325. He looked out at Smythe. The man was reclined on the hood of a classic Firebird, with a baseball cap covering his face, like he was taking a nap. He hadn't stirred once the whole time the two teams of operatives took position around him, hiding behind box cars and shipping containers.

Casey paused. If _she_ was right and Smythe had wanted their help, maybe he was relaxed because he _knew_ they were there. Had he counted on their back up? Had Casey been manipulated by that traitor?

Walker's voice sounded in his ear, "Cars approaching at your nine o'clock."

Casey edged around the mobile-home-sized container that was sheltering him. "Yeah, see 'em," he responded. Three black sedans approached Smythe's Firebird from behind.

Smythe sat up suddenly, catching his cap in mid-air and pulling it onto his head. He clapped his hands together. "Show time, boys and girls!"

Casey watched as Smythe scanned the area and then slid off the hood of the car. He put his back to Casey and took a long stretch, raising his arms in the air. Then he faced the approaching cars and casually walked to the back of the Firebird. He leaned against the trunk and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Okay," Casey said, "Once we see the package, we move in. And we want to take Smythe alive if possible."

Casey lead the "yellow team", six operatives positioned in an arc about 20 yards west of Smythe's position - between Smythe and the ocean. Walker's "green team" was made up of six operatives as well, including Chuck. The green team mirrored yellow's position about 20 yards east of Smythe, between Smythe and a row of warehouses. Both teams were all fully armored and carrying semi-automatic M-4s and Desert Eagles. Casey, of course, had a few extra weapons attached to his combat vest including some handy throwing knives.

The sedans stopped 10 yards from Smythe. Pale men in dark suits emerged from the two flanking cars and pointed modified Uzis at Smythe. Smythe maintained his casual pose, but Casey could feel the tension surge in his team.

"Easy," he whispered. "They're not going to kill him without seeing the package."

"Are you sure?" Chuck's voice responded, "because they seem pretty anxious."

"He has that effect on people," Casey shot back.

Three doors opened on the middle car and three more pale men wearing dark suits got out and walked toward Smythe. One was clearly a body guard, one carried a laptop computer, and the third man, a distinguished looking gentleman with silver hair and an authoritative walk was clearly the boss. Smythe pushed off the car and met them halfway.

"General," Smythe said nodding at the man with silver hair. Smythe reached out to shake the man's hand and was rewarded with a less than friendly pat down by the body guard. "Most guys buy me a drink before getting that handsy there, Smiley," Smythe said.

The body guard sneered at Smythe, finished his search, put both hands on Smythe's chest and gave him a challenging shove.

After a nod from the body guard, the General reached out to shake Smythe's hand, "Peter, my friend…!" The firm handshake moved quickly into a brisk hug.

"Gregor Fandorin," Chuck said, "Former General in the Russian Army, now suspected of aiding militant Siberian separatist groups."

The General pulled away from Smythe. "You have my new toy, yes?"

"Of course," Smythe said. "You have my money?"

The General waved a hand at the man with the laptop. The man opened the computer, held it with one hand and typed with the other. After a few moment's work, he turned it to face Smythe.

Smythe smiled, and tapped a few keys. The computer guy pulled the laptop back and Smythe looked at the General.

"I get the item and you get your money," the General said.

"Sure thing," Smythe said and walked backwards towards the car.

Squealing tires pulled Casey's attention to three o'clock. Two silver vans came speeding towards Smythe and the Russians.

"Peter, what have you done?" the General yelled.

Smythe glanced over his shoulder at the vans. "Don't worry, Greg," he said calmly. "I've got this under control."

"Casey…!" Chuck whined. "They're going to kill him now."

"Hold your position!" Casey ordered, moving his eyes back and forth between the Russians and approaching vans.

"What is he doing?" Walker asked.

Casey put his eyes on Smythe and saw that he was slowly raising his right fist into the air. When his fist was as high as he could get it, he opened it dramatically and there was an explosion to Casey's right. Casey looked toward the vans and was momentarily blinded by bomb flash.

"Holy shit!" sounded in Casey's ear. Probably from one of the junior officers that had only seen bombs explode in carefully controlled exercises.

Casey focused on the blast area. A shipping container had exploded near one of the vans. Burnt and flaming metal hurtled into the van's path and the driver swerved wildly to avoid it. He tagged the back end of the other van, ran right into a flaming shard, and jerked to a stop.

"Colonel?" a shaky voice sounded in his ear.

"Still holding!" Casey barked.

Casey took in the scene in one scan. The Russian computer genius was running for the car. The body guard was pushing the reluctant General back towards the car. The other six Russians had knelt behind the still open doors of the other two cars, but their weapons were trained in Smythe's general direction. Smythe raised his left fist in the air.

Casey brought his eyes around to remaining van in time to see another container explode.

"He's got back up!" Walker said. "Smythe's got somebody here!"

"Ya think?" Chuck said.

Casey grunted. "And I bet I know who it is."

The driver of the second van wasn't as talented as the first, and immediately drove into the remnants of the container with enough force to deploy the airbags. If there were airbags.

"Green team, you cover the vans. Make sure they don't make any more trouble," Casey said. "Yellow team will stay on the Russians and Smythe."

Smythe turned in a circle, taking in the destruction with a hearty laugh. Then he turned back to the General who hadn't allowed the body guard to push him into the car.

"Can we finish our business now, Greg?"

The General looked a bit shaken, but after a wary look around the yard gave a strained laugh. "It's always such an adventure doing business with you, Peter."

Smythe gave an elaborate bow in the General's direction. "I aim to please." He straightened, turned and walked to the trunk of the Firebird. "If you'd like to inspect it, Greg…"

"Yes, of course," the General said, motioning for the man with the computer to follow him. The body guard stopped long enough to pull an Uzi out of the front seat of the car and then took his place at the General's right elbow.

By the time the three reached Smythe, he had the trunk open and had turned back around to face his potential firing squad.

"Get ready to move, teams," Casey said.

The General reached down into the trunk and examined something, then after a moment stood up and pulled a large duffle bag from the trunk.

Smythe tilted his head at the General. "We good?"

"We are, Peter," the General said with a nod. "But you, not so much."

Casey expected the double cross and wondered why Smythe hadn't. "Move teams!" he ordered.

Automatic gunfire erupted as Casey ran for the pavement. It looked like the body guard had fired on Smythe, but taken out the computer geek instead. Smythe and the body guard were battling for control of the weapon while the rest of the Russians watched and looked for a shot.

Casey saw several operatives of green team running in a sprint towards the vans and the bomb debris. His team was fanning out around the rest of the Russians.

"Freeze!" Casey yelled, aiming his M-4 at Smythe and the body guard. "Federal agents!"

The General clutched the duffle bag and ran for his car.

Casey heard a muffled shot. The body guard turned toward him and that gave Smythe the advantage. Smythe kicked the man's knee to the side. Casey heard another distant shot. The guard cried out and dived toward the ground. Smythe pulled the Uzi from the man, and then used a powerful axe kick to crumple the big man to the ground. Smythe turned the Uzi toward the General's back. There was another rifle shot.

Casey ran his eyes over his team counting four operatives closing in on only three Russians with weapons. The fourth operative, the junior CIA officer with the long dark hair, was moving toward the General. And so was Smythe.

"Stop, Smythe!" Casey yelled.

"Sniper!" Walker yelled. "There's a sniper, Casey!"

Casey nearly dropped his weapon as he saw another Russian drop to the ground.

"Uhm, you know who got training as a sniper but never officially used it?" Chuck asked.

"Yeah," Casey growled.

He scanned the scene again. Down on the other end he saw a couple of agile Asian men leap from the van wreckage only to fall to the ground. The sniper fire repeated every other second.

"Wonder how she'll take care of her daughter from prison," Walker snapped.

"Everybody take cover!" Casey ordered.

His team scattered at his command. Not that it mattered too much. All the Russians were down, including the General. Smythe had tackled him and was busy punching him with his right hand while he held the Uzi in his left.

Casey continued to move towards him. "Drop the weapon, Smythe!"

After one more vicious punch, Smythe came to his feet, keeping the Uzi trained on the General.

"I can't believe you, Greg! After all we've been through you turn on me?" Smythe kicked him in the ribs. "I hate this business!" he continued to rant. "You can't trust anybody!"

Casey noticed the sniper fire had stopped. He caught movement in the corner of his eye and assumed Walker's team was going for the vans.

"Yellow team, secure Russian shooters!" Casey ordered.

Smythe glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Casey. "I take that back. I knew I could trust you, Casey. I knew you would be here for me, pal!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Casey saw the rest of his team moving cautiously towards the fallen Russians.

Casey moved closer to Smythe. "Drop the weapon, jackass!"

Smythe tilted his head, "Aw c'mon… let me take care of this backstabber, man!"

"Drop it now!" Casey barked.

"Okay, okay!" Smythe said, stepping away from the General's prone form and dramatically swinging the Uzi toward Casey.

Casey wondered when he would stop being surprised by the guy.

Casey heard the sniper rifle fire and watched in horror as a small explosion of red burst over Smythe's chest. The Uzi fell from Smythe's hands as he dropped to his knees.

Casey was frozen for a moment, his brain completely overwhelmed with the realization that Joelle had just killed Smythe. As Smythe started to sway, Casey lurched toward him, lowering his weapon and putting the safety on as he moved.

Smythe looked at him, his eyes wide with shock and the color quickly draining from his face. "I… I…"

Casey reached him just as Smythe started to fall backwards. He released his weapon and let it hang by the strap and put his arms around Smythe to ease him to the ground.

Smythe weakly grabbed on to Casey's combat vest. "I can't believe it…!" he rasped.

Casey looked down at the wound and saw the blood throb in time with Smythe's heartbeat. "Shit! Shit!" Casey growled. He put his hand over the wound and applied firm pressure knowing it would do nothing.

Smythe made a choking noise and then coughed up some blood. His hand slipped from Casey's vest and his eyes were losing focus.

"Who did this?" Casey asked. "Who did this to you?"

Smythe struggled to focus his eyes on Casey's face. "Tell her I…" Smythe took a labored breath. "I've always loved her…"

Casey watched as Smythe exhaled his last breath.

**Author's Note:** Give a listen to _21 Guns_ by Green Day as we fade out on Mr. Smythe. The version recorded by the American Idiot Broadway cast is especially poignant for this farewell. And it transitions well to the next chapter. **Feedback request:** To help my future writing projects, I'd like to know if you were surprised at all with this chapter. If yes, by what? I meant to surprise you with 1) Joelle being there and backing Peter up and 2) turning on him in the end. Or did you know this was coming all along? Any other feedback you want to share is appreciated. Even if it's just that you don't like the part Peter played here. I know some readers have grown fond of him. ;) Thanks for reading and thanks for the reviews!


	14. Chapter 14 Technical Knock Out

**Chapter Fourteen – Technical Knock Out**

_Technical knock out: when a fighter is unable to continue, usually due to injury._

**Author's note: **Even though the story isn't told from her POV (except for the one flashback), I still had to get into her head. During that process I found that _Kaleidoscope Heart _by Sara Bareilles is a great soundtrack for Josie.

It took him exactly 43 minutes to locate her. When he got to his place and found that she had totally cleared out, he worried that she had already disappeared. But then he realized that would have been difficult to do with Angel in tow. So he went to her home and found the lithe brunette, Kate, staying there with Angel. Joelle was gone. Kate said she was at the dojang working out.

When he walked into the dojang, he found her dressed in yoga clothes, not a dobok, sitting in full lotus pose, supposedly deep in meditation. Even though she must have heard him enter, she did not open her eyes. She looked… almost serene.

"I'm not buying it, Sister," he said, walking toward her.

She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her face showed no emotion. He knelt down in front of her and examined her face, looking for signs of dirt, sweat, tears… something. There was a fine sheen of sweat over her skin, but nothing more.

"You're sweating," he said.

She ran her eyes over him. He was still wearing his black cargo pants, black t-shirt, and combat boots, but had left the tactical vest and most of his weapons at Castle. "So are you," she said.

"I just watched a man die," he replied.

"I just finished 70 minutes of Ashtanga yoga."

"Did you hear me? I just watched a man die."

She gave a slight shrug and gracefully came to her feet. "I'm sure you've watched plenty of men die today."

She turned her back to him and started to walk away. He grabbed her arm with his left hand and spun her back around to face him. "I just watched Peter Smythe die."

She hesitated for only a moment, but still didn't show any emotion. "No you didn't."

He held up his right hand. "His blood is still under my nails," he growled.

She actually looked at his finger tips for a moment. Then she looked back into his eyes. "Peter isn't dead."

Casey stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head. "You're either crazy or a really good actress."

She shrugged again.

"Either way, you're coming down to Castle with me right now."

"Are you arresting me, John?"

"Don't be an idiot," he snapped. "I told you a long time ago, you fall under the Patriot Act, Caldwell."

XoXoXoX

He let her sit in an interrogation room, handcuffed to the table for over two hours while he talked with the team, reviewed the scene findings, and briefed the General.

The aftermath was almost as crazy as the event itself. Smythe had set bombs around the entire perimeter of the meet area and the bomb squad was still working to defuse them. The sniper had neutralized nine Russians and 12 Yakuza without killing a single one. She also put a bullet through the Russian's laptop. The device that Smythe had stolen was now on its way back to DC. Her gear was found on the roof of a warehouse about 800 yards from the meet site.

There were only two deaths from the whole fiasco: Smythe and the Russian computer genius, who was killed by the bodyguard's Uzi. Even the surveillance team at the original warehouse was okay. Smythe had found them, but only tranqed them.

"Colonel, there is video footage of Ms. Caldwell going into her gym at 1230 today and not leaving until you dragged her out in handcuffs," the General said.

"There are ways around that, ma'am."

"There is no physical evidence of any kind to put her at the scene or tie her to the murder weapon or any other equipment we found."

Casey frowned. "Who else would back him up like that and then turn on him?"

"Smythe had a lot of friends, Colonel. And a lot of enemies."

"She did it, ma'am, I know it," Casey gritted.

"And I believe you, Colonel Casey, but unless you get her to confess, we have no choice but to let her go. Call me when it is done."

The screen went black. Casey snarled, grabbed Chuck's laptop and walked toward the interrogation room.

Walker came to her feet and matched his stride down the hallway.

He glanced at her. "Don't need any help, Walker."

"You're not going in there alone, Casey."

He stopped in front of the interrogation room door. "I can handle this," he said.

Walker shook her head. "Your interrogation techniques tend to be somewhat heavy-handed," she said. "I don't think that's going to work with her."

Casey thought back to Caldwell's Afghanistan imprisonment and had to agree.

"Fine," he growled. "But let me take lead." She gave a quick nod. He put his thumb on the security scanner and the door slid open.

The muscles in his chest tightened at first sight of her. He had refused her request to change clothes, so she was still in her form-fitting yoga tank and pants. And it was obvious that she was cold. Her hair was pulled up in a tight pony tail. She sat stiffly in the chair, her wrists cuffed around a bolt in the table. Her face was relaxed and showed no emotion. When she moved her eyes to his face, her expression remained blank.

He cursed himself for still being attracted to her after what she had done.

He set the laptop on the table and then sat down in the chair so he was directly across the table from her. Walker stood at his left shoulder, her left hip cocked and her arms folded over her chest.

Caldwell's eyes went from him to Walker and then settled back on him. He held her stare for several long moments.

"You know what I find odd?" he asked. Caldwell didn't react. "You never asked me how the thing turned out." He paused, thinking she would respond, but she didn't. "Why didn't you ask?" Casey asked in his most menacing voice.

"Because I didn't care," she said.

"You cared about what happened to Smythe," Walker corrected, her voice edged with anger.

Caldwell didn't move her eyes from Casey's face. "You told me what happened to Peter."

"You said you wanted him neutralized," Casey said. "It should have been the first thing you asked me."

"You told me he was dead."

"But not right away," Casey said.

"You didn't ask, because you were there," Walker interjected. "You killed him."

So much for letting him take lead.

Caldwell continued to stare at him, saying nothing. Casey put his attention on the computer and pulled up the photo of Smythe's body at the scene. He turned the computer so Caldwell could see it. He waited until her eyes went to the computer screen.

"Thought you might like to get an up close look at what you did to him."

She looked at the computer for several moments, and eventually moved her eyes back to his face.

"You've got nothing to say?" he snapped, anger building in his chest. "This was the man you loved! The father of your child!"

The muscles of her face tightened and she leaned across the table, bringing her face close to his. "That's the man that tortured me for days," she said softly, "and then lied to me about it for years!"

Walker shifted her weight. She obviously didn't know the history.

"So, what's your point?" Caldwell asked.

"My point is that you should be showing some kind of emotion right now, knowing that he's dead…."

"He's not dead," Caldwell said, interrupting him.

"If he's not dead than he's a damn good actor," Casey said.

She shrugged. "He's a spy."

Casey paused for a moment, frustrated that she wasn't giving him any kind of opening. He exhaled and fought back the emotions building in his chest. He tapped the edge of the laptop, "That photo is the only thing left of Peter Smythe, and it won't be around long. He's been completely erased from the face of the earth."

"Good for him," she said. "He's wanted that for a long time."

"Oh, so you think you did him a favor by killing him, is that it?" Casey asked through clenched teeth.

"I didn't kill him," she replied.

Casey ground his teeth and pointed at the computer. "Then who did this?"

She looked at the photo for a moment. "You know what I find odd, John?" she asked, moving her eyes back to his. "Why do you care so much about Peter's fate? You labeled him an enemy of the State. He stole something from the government and was going to sell it to some very bad people. Most people would say he got what he deserved."

"I…" Casey started to object, but realized Caldwell made sense. Casey shouldn't be upset that Smythe was dead. Not just for the reasons she listed but also because Smythe had made it personal. Smythe abducted them, left them nearly helpless in a warehouse, and threatened Casey's life.

Casey stared at her, watching as her lips curled into a smug smile. Anger began rolling in waves through his torso.

"This is bullshit," Walker growled, stepping around the table. It happened fast. Walker punched Caldwell in the face. All Casey saw was Caldwell's head jerk towards her left shoulder.

"Walker, stop!" Casey barked, coming to his feet so fast he knocked the metal chair over.

Walker pulled her right fist back and went for another head shot, but Casey managed to get his hand out to stop her. He held on to her fist as he came around the table and pulled her away from Caldwell.

Caldwell turned her head to face them, her lip busted and her nose bleeding. She looked at Walker and smiled. "That was a decent hit, Walker. A little slow, but…"

Walker lunged back towards Caldwell, and Casey struggled with her for a moment to get control. The door opened and Chuck joined the fray.

"Sarah!" Chuck yelled, grabbing on to her arm.

Casey pushed Walker into Chuck and pushed them both towards the still open door. As soon as he pushed them across the threshold, Casey put his thumb on the scanner and the door slid closed.

Walker stopped struggling, but continued to glare in Caldwell's direction through the glass door. She slammed her open hand on the glass and then let Chuck pull her down the hall.

Casey turned around and looked at Caldwell. She smiled. "That was fun."

He lifted his lip in a snarl. "You channeling Smythe now?"

She shrugged. "Much of what I am goes to Peter," she said.

Casey thought over her words. "I've been over all your records," he said. "I never saw anything about you being clinically insane, but I'm starting to think that's the case." He watched her closely and saw the change in her eyes. Finally, an opening. A knife to twist to get some emotion out of the bitch.

"Yeah," he bent over and picked up his chair. "After what happened to you Afghanistan, that would be enough to make most women crumble…"

"Careful, Casey," she growled.

Casey sat down, enjoying that the tables had turned. "Falling for this lunatic and then finding out that he's the one that did it to you… that was probably enough to fracture you into tiny bits."

An angry blush crept over her face. "You prick!" she spat. "I knew you'd try and use that against me."

He gave her a Smythe-like smirk and nodded his head. "Sure! That explains it. There's the woman I first met. I'd like to think that's the real you. That's the Recon Force Marine. Then there's the sex-kitten that was all over me at the club."

"I'm warning you, Casey…!" she growled softly.

"There's the china doll part that needs protecting by a big, strong man. And then there's **Josie**, who is into passive-aggressive relationships… the female equivalent of Peter Smythe…!" He leaned over the table closing the distance between them. "All I need to know is which one of you killed Smythe?"

He felt her feet on his right leg, one on the side of his knee and one hooked around his ankle. He reached down to break the hold, but he was too late.

"Shut! Up!" she yelled and pushed one direction against his knee while pulling his foot in the other direction. He slid to the right to minimize the damage, but searing pain engulfed his knee cap. He grunted loudly and gave her ankle a sharp jab. Her foot slid off his knee and the pain receded a little.

She pulled both feet back and moved herself as far away from him as her cuffed hands would allow. She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are way out of line, John."

Casey pushed to his feet and tested his right knee. She hadn't dislocated the kneecap, but he was going to be walking funny for a couple of weeks.

Casey shook his head. "And you are so clearly insane I don't know why I didn't notice it before! But you're right about one thing. Why should I care that you killed your lover? He was a traitorous jackass. You did the world a favor by getting rid of him. I'm done worrying about him and about **you**!" He fumbled in his pocket for the handcuff key.

He tossed the key on the table within her reach. He held her eyes, his stomach burning with unwanted emotions. "You're free to go, Caldwell, with the thanks of grateful nation, blah, blah, blah…!"

He turned his back on her and took a couple of unsteady steps toward the door. He put his thumb on the scanner and the door slid open. He paused in the doorway and turned his head toward his shoulder just enough to see her in the corner of his eye.

"Oh, almost forgot. Smythe's last words were about you." Casey turned a little more so he could see her more clearly. There was a brief flash of emotion on her face but he couldn't tell if it was fear or surprise. "He wanted me to tell you that he's always loved you."

He waited for a moment but she gave no more facial expression. He shook his head in disgust and walked out the door. It slid closed behind him.

He limped down the hall, and Walker stepped out of the observation room. "You okay?" she asked motioning toward his knee with her head.

"I'll be fine," he said through gritted teeth. He kept moving.

Chuck appeared in the doorway behind her. "Yeah, but are you… _okay_?" he asked.

Casey knew he was talking emotionally. "Stupid question," he snapped and kept moving.

He noticed a third person in the observation room as he passed. It was Grimes. Grimes was staring into the observation glass. Perfect. Just what he needed. Grimes witnessing _that_ woman getting the best of him.

Casey gave a snarl but kept moving. He didn't stop until he was alone in his apartment with a bottle of 12 year old scotch.


	15. Chapter 15 Dirty Boxing

**Chapter Fifteen – Dirty Boxing**

_Dirty boxing: in close boxing from a clenched position. In traditional boxing, fighters would be separated from this position, but in MMA they are allowed to fight from the clench._

**Author's Note:** Suggested soundtrack: _Grace is Gone _by Dave Matthews Band, _Happiness_ by The Fray, _Murder of One _by Counting Crows

The passage of time had become a blur for him. Was it 5 or 6 days since he watched Smythe die and allowed Caldwell to go free? It was impossible to keep track with the way his days had been lately.

He got up late, made an appearance at the Buy More or Castle proper and then leave early. He would stop at the liquor store on the way home, then plant himself in the recliner with a bottle of scotch and watch whatever idiot program was on channel 147 until he fell into a drunken sleep.

He needed to figure out how many days exactly he had wasted, because he was too disciplined to go on like this much longer.

There was a knock on his door. He looked at the bottle of scotch to determine what time it was. About 2/3 gone. Must be around 2100.

He sat in his recliner and continued to stare at the television and tried not to think.

There was another knock. "C'mon, Casey," Grimes voice sounded through the door. "I know you're in there."

Casey grunted, but not loud enough for Grimes to hear him.

"Alex sent me. She's worried about you. Why haven't you answered her calls?"

Casey grunted louder.

Grimes was quiet for a while. "Dude, I'm not leaving until I see you… I've gotta make sure you're still alive."

Casey took a drink from the bottle, collapsed the foot rest of the recliner with a little difficulty, and came to his feet with a little wobble. He gritted his teeth and pounded his chest with his free hand, and moved toward the door.

He opened it and gave Grimes his typical sneer. Grimes took in the t-shirt and boxers and the scotch bottle in his hand and turned his doe-eyes upwards. "Oh, John…" he said, his voice filled with pity.

"I'm fine!" Casey snapped. "Tell Alex I'm fine and I'll call her… in a few days."

Grimes leaned backwards and waved his hand through the air. "Did you actually drink all that tonight?"

"I…"

Grimes pushed past him and grabbed the bottle from his hand and walked toward the kitchen.

"Hey…! I'm not done with that!" Casey said. He slammed the front door, tried to close the distance between him and Grimes and made a swipe for the bottle. Grimes sidestepped him and Casey stumbled forward, caught himself, tried to come back to a standing position and was more than a little surprised when his butt hit the floor.

"Not exactly at the top of your form, General," Grimes said.

Casey looked up at him. "I'm not a General. I'm a Colonel, you moron."

Grimes snapped his fingers, "Right, right… the General is… well, she's not you."

Grimes walked into the kitchen, and Casey heard the sound of liquid hitting a drain. "That better not be my 10-year old Black Label, Grimes!"

Grimes popped back around the corner brushing his palms on his jeans. "I know, I know, you'll make me pay for that."

Casey watched as Grimes approached him and then squatted beside him. He took Casey's left arm, and wrapped it around his shoulder. "Up we go," Grimes sang as he stood up.

Casey knew he could take Grimes down if he wanted. Grimes deserved it for pouring out his liquor, but Casey just didn't have the energy. He let Grimes help him up, walked with him to the couch, and let Grimes sit down next to him.

Then Grimes stared at him until Casey began to feel uncomfortable. "What do you want, Morgan?"

"I read the field reports," Grimes said. "Chuck and Sarah's, that is. You haven't completed yours yet."

Casey grunted.

"I thought you might want to talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about it," Casey grumbled. Grimes continued to stare at him. "What? She double-crossed us and then killed Smythe, and there wasn't a damn thing we could do about it."

"And don't forget, she broke your heart."

Casey sputtered for a few moments and due to lack of any kind of rebuttal sneered and said, "Nuh-uh."

Grimes put his arm around Casey's shoulders. "Oh, it's alright, big guy. It happens to the best of us."

"She didn't… I wasn't…" Casey couldn't stop sputtering, "That's not what…!" Casey shrugged Grimes's arm off his shoulders.

"But you know what I think?" Grimes sang. "I think she really cares for you."

"That just proves what I've always suspected," Casey sneered. "You really are a moron, Grimes."

Grimes shook his head. "You should have seen her after you left," he said. "She was all slumped over the table, trembling, breathing hard…"

"Crying?" Casey asked hopefully.

"Well… I never actually saw tears… but it was clear she was upset."

"Unh," Casey shook his head. "That woman is a heartless bitch!"

"I'm telling you, she was upset. And it's clear that you're upset over her. I think you should just go talk to her."

"Never!" Casey snapped. "She's a criminal!"

Morgan shrugged. "Did she really do _anything_ that bad?"

"She sabotaged the operation!"

Grimes made a sucking sound with his teeth. "You don't have any proof of that…"

Casey growled and made fists.

Morgan looked at his fists and held up his hands. "Okay, let's assume she did what you think she did… was it really that bad? She kept the bad guys from getting the device, right? Wasn't that the purpose of the whole thing?"

"She killed people!"

Grimes made the sound again. "Even if she was the sniper, she only wounded people. Except, of course…"

"Except Smythe! A man she supposedly loved!"

"Yes, but a _bad_ man," Morgan said, poking a finger into Casey's chest. "A man who, if he had lived, would have been charged with treason!" Morgan poked him again. "And, she **used** to love him. But now she loves **you**." Another poke.

"Don't be a moron. She doesn't love me," Casey growled.

"Oh really?" Morgan drawled with a goofy grin. "The sniper didn't kill anybody except Smythe."

"Right," Casey said with a nod, not understanding where he was going.

"She takes down all those people without killing a single one, but the moment Smythe turns his weapon on who…?" Grimes jumped up and made a few dance steps and then put his finger into Casey's chest again and said, "You! When he aims at you she shoots him dead!" Morgan gave him the goofy grin again and sat back down on the couch. "Now, if that's not a sign of true love to **your** kind, I don't know what is.

Maybe it was the scotch, but that sort of made sense.

XoXoXoXoX

It had been almost two weeks since he'd watched Smythe die and allowed Caldwell to go free. And it had been almost a week since he had gone to Joelle's dojang and been bitch-slapped by her Zac Efron-looking black belt. Figuratively speaking. The kid clearly resented Casey on a deep level and was less than helpful when Casey went asking about Jo. Maybe it was because he accidentally called him Ducky. And while Angel's brunette babysitter, Kate, was more friendly, she was equally unhelpful.

Caldwell was gone. No one knew for how long. No one knew how to get a hold of her.

Casey used the breadth of Castle's computing power to find her. Again to no avail. She hadn't been erased like Smythe had, but there was nothing past her current address in Silver Lake. He found no recent cell phone records, no airline travel, bank transactions, surveillance camera video, nothing. He had even enlisted Chuck, despite the hit to his ego, and even The Intersect wasn't helpful.

Not that Casey had decided what he was going to do if he found her.

He was standing in the Buy More, absentmindedly staring at a TV as it played Men in Black, wishing he had some real work to distract him, when some idiot had the nerve to ask him a question.

"Hey, pal, you know anything about these GPS thingies?"

Casey recognized the voice immediately, but turned his body slowly to face him. There stood Peter Smythe smiling at him, holding a GPS receiver in his hand. He was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, and a pair of hipster glasses. His dark hair was peppered with gray now, cut in a trendy style and held in place with product. His smile reached up to his dark eyes.

Surprised again.

Adrenaline burned into Casey's muscles and he started considering ways to knock that smile off Smythe's face. "You look healthier than the last time I saw you," he gritted.

Smythe shrugged. "Spent a few days on an island. Very relaxing. You should try it, Casey."

Casey glanced around and rather loudly said, "Yes, sir, I'd be happy to help you choose a GPS system..." He wrapped his arm around Smythe's neck and tried to make it look friendly, "I've got some brochures in here..."

Smythe didn't resist. In fact he laughed. "You missed me, I can tell."

Casey jerked him toward the home theater room, and opened the door to find Lester and Jeff eating lunch on the faux leather couch.

"Whoa, whoa!" Lester said raising his hands. "Occupato, big man."

"Get out," Casey growled.

"No way, we were here first," Jeff said, a bite of Subway sandwich hanging from his mouth.

Casey changed his hold slightly and put Smythe in a full head lock.

Smythe laughed again. "Hey, somebody call the cops. All I did was ask this guy for help with a GPS and he lost it!"

"Cops?" Jeff exclaimed, coming to his feet and dumping his sandwich on the floor. "I can't be part of this!" He scooped the sandwich off the floor and made for the door. He paused in front of Casey and looked him in the eye. "I was never here." He took a man-sized bite of his sandwich and left.

Casey gave Lester his darkest stare. Lester lifted his hand, "This is America my friend, and I have the right to…"

Casey growled.

Lester practically jumped to his feet. "Yeah, okay. I was done anyway."

After Lester cleared the threshold, Casey pushed the glass door closed with his foot, and gave Smythe a good shove toward the couch.

Smythe laughed the whole way, caught his balance, turned and looked at Casey. "Those guys NSA or CIA?"

"Neither."

Smythe shook his head in a good-natured way. "Thank God. I was seriously worried about our national security there."

The two men stared at each other for several long moments. Casey finally shook his head and said, "I should have known you weren't really dead. Spooks and vampires: don't exist and never really die."

Smythe smiled. "And both sexy as hell if you believe those Twilight movies."

"Why are you here?" Casey growled.

Smythe sat down on the couch, turned sideways and stretched his legs out. "It's about Josie, of course."

"What about her?"

"You're trying to find her," Smythe said.

Casey frowned. "That's not… I'm not…" he sputtered. And then after a few more sputters said, "Nuh-uh."

Smythe smiled. "Of course you are. Wanna know how I know?" Smythe waited for a few moments, but Casey was tired of sputtering and chose not to reply. "Because it's Josie."

Casey folded his arms over his chest. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Smythe shook his head slowly. "I knew you were going after her to try and get me show. And I knew you would fall for her."

Casey let his arms fall to his side. "I didn't…! You're…!" He was sputtering again.

Smythe laughed. "Look at you, Casey! You're blushing!"

Casey set his jaw and folded his arms over his chest again.

"I knew just from seeing you with her that you were into her, man. But I didn't realize how much until I talked to you that night."

"That so?" Casey asked.

Smythe edged his smile up higher. "You can't act worth a damn, Casey."

"It was an op and it's over now."

"But you can't stop thinking about her, can you?" Smythe gave a slight pause. "Even when you thought she killed me and ruined your op, you couldn't stop wanting her."

Casey wanted to disagree, but considering the amount of sputtering he'd been doing, he decided his safest response was silence.

When Smythe continued, his voice was wistful. "That's Josie. She's just… well, you don't forget her." He paused, studying Casey's face. "Like those clowns she dated after me. They couldn't let go of her either. There would have been a restraining order with the one guy if I hadn't stepped in and had a chat with him." Smythe smiled.

"And what about you?" Casey asked.

The smile slid off Smythe's face. He hesitated. "She told you how we met, right?"

Casey nodded.

"I had no right to want her. I **knew** it was wrong to try. But I couldn't forget her. I stayed away from her for almost a year, man. I figured we'd date for awhile and I'd get over her. You know… wanting the thing that you can't have. I thought once I had her I'd eventually get over her and I could let her go. But, it never happened." He paused for a moment. "She's the only woman I've ever really loved."

Casey tried to maintain a neutral stare.

"Then she found out I was the one in Afghanistan…" Smythe looked away from him. "I tried again to stay away from her, but I couldn't."

"How about now, after she's killed you?" Casey snarked.

Another wistful smile came over Smythe's face. "That was Hollywood good, wasn't it?"

"It was enough to convince me and my entire unit."

Smythe gave a wave of his hand. "I'm not talking about the technical details of faking a sucking chest wound, Casey. I'm talking about the drama. The human emotion. The poetry!"

"Never cared for poetry," Casey said.

Smythe turned toward him and put his feet back on the floor. "C'mon, man, I know you felt something! You let me die in your arms for God's sake!"

"I'd let you die in my arms again if you promise to stay dead this time," Casey said.

Smythe ignored him. "And think about it from her standpoint. There she is watching us through a scope, unable to talk to either of us, knowing what she had to do, but knowing what it would do to you."

"You asked her to help you fake your death," Casey said.

"Of course," Smythe said. "I wouldn't trust anybody else to kill me."

"How did you do it? I was with her almost constantly," Casey said.

"We set up the plans years ago," Smythe replied. "That night in the warehouse I let her know I was ready. It was the only way to protect her and Evangeline… what I didn't anticipate was how mad she was going to be about it."

"She was mad?" Casey repeated.

Smythe nodded. "Really mad. Mad about the whole thing, but especially mad about how it played out." Casey raised one eyebrow. Smythe sighed. "She knew you'd feel betrayed when you realized she was there backing me up. And then when I pulled you in… aimed my weapon at you... She was forced to take the shot before you did." He paused, studying Casey's face again. "She thinks I forced her to take that shot at that moment knowing it would ruin any chance of you two ever… bleh!" Smythe stuck his tongue out. "I can't even say it."

Casey let his arms drop to his sides and took a step closer. "She said that? That she wanted…?"

Smythe held up a hand. "Don't say it!" he snapped. Smythe frowned. "Are you kidding me? She wouldn't come right out and admit something like that to me. But yeah, she knew you wouldn't be able to get past what went down, and she feels like she lost an opportunity for... _something_." Smythe gave a wave of his hand that managed to communicate his distaste.

Casey walked slowly to the couch and sat down, replaying Smythe's death in his mind in light of this new knowledge. After a few moments thought, he shook his head. "So, she knew I'd feel betrayed, but she did it anyway," he said. He turned his head toward Smythe. "She chose you over me."

Smythe shook his head slowly. "You don't get her at all, do you? First of all, she gave me her word years ago that she would do this for me. Josie doesn't break commitments. And secondly, now that the intelligence community knows that Evangeline is mine, thank **you** very much, Colonel Casey, it was the only way to keep our daughter safe. If she chose anybody over you, it was Evangeline. And that's the way it should be, you selfish bastard."

Smythe held Casey's eyes for a few moments and then gave him a conspiratorial smile.

Casey's stomach turned at the thought that he was the one that exposed Angel. He slouched back into the couch. Smythe stared at him for a few moments and then started messing with the GPS that was still in his hand. After a few moments, Smythe handed the receiver to him.

Casey took it and looked at the device's screen. "Sanibel Island?" he asked.

"Popular with retired spies," Smythe said with a smile. "She has a few friends there." After a pause, he said, "If you want her, you have to go there, Casey. Don't call or email. Go there in person. You have to talk to her face to face. And don't let her give you any lame excuses."

Casey stared at the location numbers on the GPS for a few moments then eyed Smythe. "Why are you doing this?"

Smythe gave a long exhale. "Because her happiness is more important to me than my own," he said. He glanced at Casey. "And to answer the questions you won't ask: yes, I still love her. Yes, I told her that. And no, she doesn't love me. Not any more. In fact, considering how my death scene played out she barely tolerates me these days." He slowly came to his feet. "So, I'm giving you full custody of Josie, but not my daughter. I intend to have a place in Evangeline's life."

Casey shook his head doubtfully, "That should be interesting."

Smythe smiled and backed toward the door. "So I'll be seeing you around, right pal?"


	16. Chapter 16 Superman Punch

**Chapter Sixteen – Superman Punch**

_Superman punch: an overhead punch in which the fighter leaps at his opponent in an attempt to avoid his defense._

**Author's note: **Thanks for sticking with me through this thing. I hope you enjoyed it! Suggested soundtrack for this final installment: _Not Broken_ by Goo Goo Dolls

Smythe had neglected to tell him it was a gated community. With a guard booth and what looked like foot patrols. Casey brought the rental car to a stop at the guard booth and rolled down the window. The booth was filled with computer equipment and video monitors. He gave the well-muscled man with the crew cut and sharp blue eyes his friendliest smile.

"I'm here to see Joelle Caldwell," he said.

The man studied his face for a few moments.

"I'm…"

"I know who you are, sir," the guard said, cutting him off. The guard pressed a button and the gates started to open. "Take a left and follow that road until you can't drive any further. Ms Caldwell is staying at 3201."

"Thank you," Casey said with a nod.

The guard returned his nod. "Have a good evening, Colonel Casey."

Casey eyed the man a moment longer trying to determine if he had ever seen him before. He was certain he hadn't. Casey nodded again and drove through the gates.

The homes were modest compared to other gated communities he had been in, but they all had glorious views of the Gulf. Casey easily found 3201. It was a bluish-green Cape Cod pretty much surrounded on three sides by water. There was a single car under the carport, and the front door was open.

Casey parked the car, turned off the engine and sat there for a good five minutes, trying to determine if this was really the right thing to do. He'd been through all the arguments and facts hundreds of times. Most of the time he came to the conclusion that at the very least had to see her and talk some things out. Occasionally he'd decide it was best to run the other way.

Now that he was here, close to her, his urge to run was strong.

He gritted his teeth, pushed the situational analysis from his mind, and got out of the car. As he approached the screen door he smelled cooking onions and garlic and his stomach reacted. He could at least stay long enough to get some of _that_.

He heard a woman's voice singing… singing _My Way. _She had a lovely voice, but it definitely wasn't Joelle. He listened for a few moments, hoping to hear Joelle, but didn't. Finally, he knocked on the screen door frame.

The singing continued and moved toward the door. A fit woman in her late 50s approached him with a glass of red wine in her hand. She wore a full-skirted, floral sundress and no shoes. Her silver hair curled under her ears. She sang all the way to the door.

When she spoke it was with a slight British accent. "Did you get everything worked out?" She took a drink of wine.

Casey raised his eyebrows. "Beg your pardon?"

She waved her hand towards his rental car. "You sat there for awhile, didn't you? I thought you might just drive right away without even saying hello."

Casey wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Uhm… I'm John Casey…"

"Well, of course you are, dear," the woman said.

"Uhm… I'm looking for Joelle Caldwell?"

"You've decided then," the woman said with another dramatic wave of her hand. "Bravo!"

She pushed the door open and held it while he squeezed by her. She let the door close, took another drink of wine and walked through the small entryway. "This way, John Casey."

Casey scanned the small first floor. Sitting room on his left, living room on his right, and a stairway clinging to the wall. He followed the woman down a short hallway and came out into a large kitchen. The kitchen took up nearly half the floor plan with stainless steel appliances and a large island with a stove top, sink, and work area. There were two large pots on the stovetop. One filled with simmering red sauce and the other with water just starting to boil.

The woman took another drink of wine and studied him. "They're out there," she said with another wave of her hand, pointing towards the open French doors directly in front of him. "Do you need me to announce you or something?"

"No, thank you,…?"

"Myra," she filled in for him.

He gave her a smile and nod and headed for the doors. He stepped onto the deck and stopped, overwhelmed. He noticed the table was set for three. He smelled the flowers draped from the overhead trellis and the salt water of the Gulf. He heard the sound of the waves gently settling onto the beach and Angel's voice. He saw the sun painting the horizon violet and rose and orange. And he saw his girls. They were on their knees building a sand castle and talking.

Angel was dressed in purple and green, her hair held back with two French braids. Joelle wore tan cargo shorts and a white tank top, her hair pulled up into a graceful knot at the nape of her neck. Casey watched them for a few moments, his chest feeling incredibly full, and then stepped down the three broad steps and onto the beach.

Joelle saw him first. She turned her head toward him and gave him a look of genuine surprise. Her eyes grew large and her jaw dropped open for just a moment. He smiled at her and kept walking toward them. Joelle slowly came to her feet, and when Casey got within five yards, Angel finally looked his way.

"Mr. Casey!" she squealed. She jumped to her feet, ran a few steps toward him, and launched herself at his chest.

He caught her and pulled her close. "Hey there, small fry." He kept his eyes locked on Jo's as she walked toward him. She no longer looked surprised; she just looked wary.

Angel wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him. "What took you so long?" the girl asked pulling away from him to look at his face. She patted his cheek with her sandy palm. "I missed you!"

Casey turned his eyes on the girl. "I missed you too," he said with a smile.

Joelle moved closer and Angel looked around at her. "Mommy, don't you want to give Mr. Casey a kiss?"

Joelle gave a small smile. "Remember we talked about that, sweetheart," she said. "Mr. Casey and I… we… we're just friends now."

Angel shook her head. "I don't care," she said. "**I'm** giving Mr. Casey a big kiss!" She turned her head and did just that. She gave Casey a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"I'm SO glad you're here," she said, "It's so much fun here! We play in the sand and find sea shells and fly kites and next week we're all going to see Mickey Mouse! You're coming with us to see Mickey, right, Mr. Casey?"

Joelle gave a nervous laugh. "Angel, you're not giving Mr. Casey a chance…"

"Angel, dear…!" Myra called from behind him. "I need your help with supper."

Casey cringed a little when Angel yelled in his ear, "Okay, Grandma!" She looked at Casey's face. "Grandma needs my help. I'll be right back!" And she gave him another sloppy kiss before he set her down.

Angel ran towards the house. "We got to set another plate for supper, Grandma! Mr. Casey's here!"

"Of course, dear," Myra replied.

Casey stared at Joelle until Angel was out of earshot. "Grandma?" he finally asked.

She gave a hesitant nod. "Peter's mother."

"Does she know you killed her son?" he asked.

"Who do you think was my spotter?" she replied.

"Unh," he replied with a mild grin. He took a step closer to her. "Not denying it now?"

She shrugged. "The only way you could have found me was by talking with Peter," she said. "So there's no point in denying it now."

"Were **you** ever going to tell me?" he asked.

She tilted her head. "Tell you what exactly?"

He exhaled. "That Smythe isn't dead."

"I told you, John. Repeatedly." She paused, watching his face. "When you came for me at the gym… when you were interrogating me… I told you he wasn't dead. I told you I didn't kill him."

Casey took a deep breath and forced an even exhale. "You did."

"I **am** sorry about being such a bitch at the end," she said softly. "I needed to convince you that I had motive and means to take Peter out. It would have been so much more difficult for all of us if you were… soft on me."

"Well, you did a good job," he replied. "Had me convinced you had multiple personalities."

She gave a small shrug. "Just because I don't like the acting crap doesn't mean I'm not good at it." After a pause she asked, "How's the knee?"

He gave a small smile. "Almost back to normal. Thanks for not making it any worse."

A faint blush crept up her face. "I'm really sorry about that. I just needed you to stop. I was close to losing it… I…"

He took another step closer, "It's okay, Joelle."

There stared at each other for a few moments. She was the one that finally broke it. "Why are you here, John?"

"Been askin' myself that same question," he replied.

"You ever get any answers?"

"I guess… I guess I'm here to clarify something," he said.

"And that is?"

"The mission is over," he said, taking another step.

"Yes."

"You served your country well while still honoring personal commitments."

She moved her eyes over his face. "Thank you, sir."

He felt a rush of warmth over his face and took another step putting them toe-to-toe.

"Anything else you want to clarify, Colonel?" she asked, looking up at him through her golden-red eyelashes.

"Just this…" he said, pulling her into his arms and putting his left hand on the small of her back. She moved her hands to his chest and he felt the warmth spread over his torso. She kept her eyes on his. He put his right hand on her face and slowly moved it to the back of her head.

He cradled her head as he pressed his lips to hers. She opened her lips immediately and pulled him in. He felt the explosion at the back of his head again, but knew this time it wasn't a head wound. She moved her hands over his chest and shoulders and the warmth followed. They took turns exploring each other with tongues and hands, and by the time he pulled away, they were both out of breath.

He looked into her eyes and saw them shimmering with gold. He cupped her face with both his hands. "I want to be clear," he said softly. "_That_ was real."

"Yes, it was," she breathed.

He started to kiss her again, but pulled away and put his forehead against hers. "One more thing," he said. "I am **not** going to kiss your feet."

She let out a surprised laugh. "Please don't," she replied. "I _hate_ that."

He pulled away to look at her face and saw that she was smiling. He returned her smile briefly and then kissed her some more.

XoXoXoX

**Epilogue**

He lay in bed and watched her as she stood at the window. The room would have been totally dark if not for the fireworks exploding outside that window. Flashes of pink, purple, and orange would light up the room, leaving her curvy silhouette dark.

"I'll give you the President's phone number if you let that robe slowly slide down your body," he said.

She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him. She was profiled by an explosion of blue.

"I would, but Tinkerbell might get distracted and fall," she said, a sexy smile sounding in her voice.

"Really?" he jumped out of bed, pulling the sheet with him. "Tinkerbell is out there?"

Who would have thought John Casey would find himself in the Magic Kingdom and actually enjoying it? The idea of spending time with Smythe and his mother, who was retired from Great Britain's MI-5 by the way, had seemed more like a nightmare than a vacation. But Casey had come along because Angel wanted him to. That and the guarantee from General Beckman that no record of Peter Smythe existed and should Casey be caught on video surveillance with a man that looked like Smythe, no red flags would be raised. At least not in the US.

Casey had anticipated long days of standing in lines with Smythe fighting him for Joelle and Angel's attention. But Smythe had been very accommodating, and Angel for her part gave the two men equal time. Angel was showing him why this place was supposedly the happiest place on earth.

What he hadn't anticipated was just how difficult it would be to get time alone with Joelle. So he had called Walker for help. It was Walker that had pulled the strings to get them into the suite in Cinderella's Castle for a night, ordered all meals to be delivered to the room, and had wine and flowers waiting for them.

It had been a truly magical night. They had finished making love for the **very** first time just as the fireworks show started. Much to his dismay, Joelle had left the bed to get a better view of the show. Now he joined her at the window, the sheet held loosely around his waist.

Sure enough, 30 yards away from the window, on a platform near a turret, stood Tinkerbell and two men dressed in black. The men helped the fairy into a harness and then clipped the harness to a cable that stretched from the turret wall to the roof of the Main Street fire department.

He stepped up behind Joelle, put his left hand on her hip and pressed his body against hers. She smiled, turned her head, and gave him a sly smile.

"You trying to tell me something, Colonel?"

"Uh huh," he whispered, pressing his hips firmly against her bottom.

She leaned in to him. "I'm sure that will still be there when the fireworks are done," she said, turning her head back towards the show. "We've got all night."

"Mmmmm," he said. He moved her hair to the side so he could place a gentle kiss behind her ear. Then he moved his lips down her neck and only stopped because the robe blocked his path. He lifted his head and watched the fireworks for a few minutes, happy to just be there with her. Then he moved his eyes to her face, and studied her for a few moments. Her lips were curled up in a constant smile. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, and if the word wasn't so closely associated with pregnancy he would say she was glowing.

"Are you happy, Joelle?" he asked.

"Are you kidding?" she responded, her eyes still on the fireworks. "Of course I am."

He hesitated, trying to reword his question. "Are you happy **with me**?"

She turned away from the window and faced him. She ran her eyes over his face and then gently placed her hand on his cheek. "Yes, John. Very happy."

And they went on like that all night long.


End file.
